


Long Journey Home

by Jazzblades



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Good Older Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Older Sibling Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason's POV, Liberal use of swearing, Major Character Injury, Slowburn Fluff, Soft Parent Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, graphic nightmare, i've taken most of canon and thrown it out the window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28654605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jazzblades/pseuds/Jazzblades
Summary: He thought he hated the new Robin. But looking at him now, beat to shit, and so tiny... He doesn’t really hate this kid, he realizes. Doesn’t really blame him either, it turns out. It’s not his fault Bruce can’t live without a child soldier at his side. So, if Batman’s not going to protect this new bird then Jason will have to. Bruce deserves what Jason is about to throw at him, but it’s getting harder and harder to not miss what he once had. A home, a family, Robin. He used to mean something, he used to matter…Now he matters in a new way, as the Red Hood. If only certain birds would let him do what needs to be done.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 141
Kudos: 644





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! I'm really excited to be sharing this fic with you all! I've been having a lot of fun writing it. I will be adding more tags as things pop up in the story, so watch out for those because things might come up later that might be triggering to you. Also, if there are any tags you think I should have, please let me know! I'd really appreciate it. There is a graphically violent scene in this first chapter; it starts right after "His blood boils with the fires of the Lazarus Pit." and goes until "He makes his way over to the slumped form of a beaten bird," So if you need to skip that, please do. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Jason hasn’t been in Gotham for very long. He’d only just recently started making moves as the Red Hood. He’s been back before though. Most notably when he put a bomb on the underside of the Batmobile. Hadn’t followed through on that plan. Batman needs to know it’s him, otherwise what’s the point.

He’s been slowly taking control of the gangs, pissing off Black Mask, and working his way towards his ultimate confrontation with the Bat. Every day brings him a little closer to his goal.

He stares out over the city; the sounds of sirens in the distance and the lights reflecting off the ever-present smog greet him like old friends. Even after all these years, Gotham still feels like home. This is _his_ city, and he’s going to do what he has to do to protect it.

He takes a couple more minutes staring out at the city lights before he drops his cigarette and snuffs it with his boot. He puts his helmet back on, ready to get back to patrol. The city’s sounds are muffled for a moment before coming back clearer than ever with the enhancements he put into the helmet. He pulls out his grapple and fires, swinging between the buildings with ease. Almost as if he had never even been gone.

Jason lands on the roof of a building near the Bowery, taking a moment to get his bearings and figure out where he should head next. That’s when he hears it. The sound of metal hitting flesh. His breath catches in his throat. _God, no._ The sick sound of laughter starts to ring faintly in his ears.

“Had enough, bird boy?” A voice breaks through the haze of green and laughter and fear. He runs to the edge of the roof, peering down at the group of men circling a huddled mass on the ground. He can make out the familiar colors of red, green, and yellow. He has to take a moment to steady himself, fists clenching. He wasn’t supposed to run into the kid wearing _his_ old suit. Not now. Not like this.

A vicious green slowly leeches into his vision.

One of the men surrounding the Replacement bends down, grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head up. The kid does not look good. His face is coated in blood, one of his eyes is already swelling, and he isn’t fighting _back_.

“Seems like we’ve clipped this bird’s wings.” The man jeers. The group descends into raucous peals of laughter.

Jason feels a new rage overcome him. One he is much more familiar with. How _dare_ they. They think hurting a child is _funny_. They think beating a Robin is fucking _funny_! Not on his watch.

Before Jason’s brain catches up with him, he’s already leapt down to beat some sense into the fucks who thought it was okay to beat a child, even if said child _is_ his Replacement.

His landing is loud, forceful, a warning. The men turn sharply to see who has come to interrupt their little beat down.

“Who the _fuck_ are you?” One of them spits, a sneer marring his features.

Some of the others start getting their weapons ready.

“Your worst fucking nightmare.”

Jason pulls his knife from its sheath, barring his teeth in a sinister grin. Too bad his helmet’s covering it up.

None of the men back down. One of them even has a goddamn crowbar.

Really? Of all the weapons to have…

He can hear hissing and bubbling as bright, sickly green starts to overtake him. His blood boils with the fires of the Lazarus Pit.

Within the next blink of an eye Jason is on them. His arm arks through the air cleanly slicing through one of their throats. He drops, hands trying desperately to stop the blood from flowing. He lays there, choking on it. He whirls around and stabs his next attacker three times in the chest. The bat slips from his fingers. The man falls, dead before he even hits the ground. The next one slashes at him with a switchblade. Jason dodges each swipe with ease. The man leaves one of his side’s open. Jason gets in real close and smashes his elbow into the guy’s temple sending him reeling. Without letting him get his balance back, Jason lashes out and stabs him straight through the neck.

Blood drips steadily off his blade. Now there’s only one more to go. The _fucker_ with the crowbar.

Said fucker with the crowbar lashes out, faster than Jason’s expecting. He hits Jason’s hand holding his knife, sending it flying. If that’s how he wants to play, Jason is all too happy to comply. The fucker swings again but Jason intercepts grabbing the crowbar with his good hand. He stares directly into the now terrified eyes before him. He grins.

He rips the crowbar out of his hands and takes a swing himself. Forehand. Backhand. Again and again. He keeps hitting the fucker until he lies completely still.

Jason steps back, dropping the crowbar, which clatters to the now wet cement. He pants for breath. The green slowly receding.

The man’s face is barely recognizable. His arms are twisted at odd angles and the bone in one of his legs is jutting through his skin. Blood is absolutely everywhere. Jason goes and picks up his knife, wiping the blood off on one of the guy’s clothes before sheathing it.

He makes his way over to the slumped form of a beaten bird, stepping over the still warm bodies. The kid hadn’t moved the entire time Jason was dealing with his attackers. He squats down, brushing some hair away from the kid’s face. He doesn’t even twitch. That’s mildly concerning. Jason sighs, hanging his head.

“Of all the fucking people…” He grumbles. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you outta here.”

He grabs the Replacement and swings his limp body over one of his shoulders, firing a line and ascending back to the rooftops. Once, he’s on the roof he takes a moment to scan his surroundings. Not even a hint of a cape or cowl. Typical. Can’t expect the Bat to actually protect his Robins.

With that cheerful thought in mind, Jason turns and starts booking it from one building to the next until he makes it to where one of his safehouses is: in the heart of the Narrows. He drops down onto the fire escape, quickly takes care of all his traps, then steps through the window. He drops the kid unceremoniously onto his cheap ass couch before turning on the lights and heading into his bedroom. He strips off his armor, wincing as he takes off the glove on the hand the fucker hit with the crowbar. He’ll have to clean his armor later. He has other things to worry about right now. Jason makes his way to the bathroom where he keeps his first aid kit, brings it back out, and sits down on the coffee table in front of the still unconscious Robin. He makes quick work of the kid’s damaged uniform, dumping it in a heap nearby. He also takes the kid’s comm and crushes it. Can’t have anyone listening in. He also takes the kid’s tracker and attaches it to a street cat that just so happens to be hanging out on his fire escape. Lucky him.

Jason sighs again and runs a weary hand over his face.

“Alright, kid. Time to clean you up.”

It’s while he’s disinfecting a gash on the kid’s forehead when he notices wary, blue eyes staring up at him. They just gaze at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word.

“They really did a number on you, huh, Replacement.”

The kid’s eyes narrow, followed by a wince.

“I’m almost finished patching you up, so hold your questions till then.” And Jason goes back to cleaning the wound and tacking on butterfly bandages. “There. All done.” He says as he pats the kid’s knee.

He stands up and takes the first aid kit with him. When he comes back into the room, the kid is on the ground crawling towards the window.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Stubborn little shit.” He says under his breath.

He steps over the kid, grabbing him under the armpits, and pulling him up into his arms.

“You aren’t going to make it very far with those injuries.”

The kid struggles weakly in Jason’s hold. Jason sighs again, feeling even more tired.

“If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have patched you up.” He drops the kid back onto the couch and goes to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

The kid is still staring at him like he’s going to kick his puppy when he comes back in the room.

“Here.” He hands over the glass along with some pain meds and sets himself back down onto the coffee table.

The Replacement shoots him a glare then eyes the pills warily.

“They’re just for the pain. They won’t knock you out.” Jason comments, knowing what the kid’s thinking. He’s not surprised. He’d be wary too.

The kid looks over the pills again, then decides Jason must be telling the truth and swallows them with a sip of water.

After that, they just sit there in silence.

Who will crack first?

Well, it’s not going to be Jason, that’s for damn sure.

“Wh—" The kid stops to cough. He takes another sip of water before trying again. “Why’d you…help me?”

“Well,” Jason pauses, actually considering, “I’m not letting another Robin get beat to death. Is that reason enough?”

The kid’s eyes widen at his words.

God, he thought he hated the new Robin. But looking at him now, beat to shit, and so fucking tiny… Was he that small when he was Robin? That’s not something he wants to think about. He doesn’t really hate this kid, he realizes. Doesn’t really blame him either, it turns out. It’s not _his_ fault Bruce can’t live without a child soldier at his side. So, if Batman’s not going to protect this new bird, then Jason will have to.

The kid tilts his head slightly, his gaze considering.

“You…called me Replacement…earlier.” His voice is still whisper soft.

“So I did.”

The Replacement sucks in a harsh breath. “But—how? I thought…” Smart cookie, this one.

“Thought what?” Jason says, keeping his voice steady and monotone.

“Jason?” The word is barely there. The kid’s eyes are scanning his face rapidly.

Jason reaches forward and grabs the glass from the kid’s shaking hands.

“The one and only.” He remarks, his lips curling up into the semblance of a smirk.

“But—that doesn’t make sense!” The kid huffs in frustration, eyebrows furrowing. “You’re dead!”

“ _Was_ dead.” Jason corrects. “Got better.”

The kid looks even more confused. “What?” His eyes are burning with curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it too much, kid.” Jason pats his knee again, then stands up stretching a bit. “I died, came back, now I’m here. Not much else to tell.”

The Pretender chokes on a breath. “Not much else to tell?!” His voice is shrill.

“Yeah. That’s all I’m telling you about it, Replacement.” He starts to wander back towards the kitchen. “I’m going to grab some food. You want any?”

It’s weird. Just a couple of hours ago he would have gladly beaten the Replacement into the ground himself, but—fuck—he’s just a kid. A kid with wide, curious blue eyes that just cut right down to your bones. No. This isn’t on the kid. It’s not his fault he got wrapped up in Bruce’s shit. Jason’ll just have to take his grievances all the way to the top. To the big, bad Bat himself.

“Oh, um, sure.” The kid says, baffled. He wraps an arm around his midsection and leans back further into the lumpy couch cushions.

“Leftover takeout okay?”

The kid stares back at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Yeah. That’s okay.” His voice is hoarse. There’s a hand shaped bruise ringing the kid’s scrawny neck.

Jason’s glad he killed those bastards. Serves them right for beating a literal child. They probably would have beat poor little Robin to death if Jason hadn’t intervened. From what Jason had heard and seen, they hadn’t planned to let bird boy live.

He’s not sure how long they’d been at him, but overall, his injuries weren’t too severe all things considered. Some possibly cracked ribs, a seriously fucked up ankle, the swelling eye, the multitude of smaller cuts and bruises here and there, a couple broken fingers, and the huge gash on the kid’s forehead. Jason must have stumbled upon them fairly early into the scuffle.

He rubs a hand through his hair. God, he’s tired. Taking care of unruly baby birds is a lot more difficult than people think.

Jason takes his time in the kitchen, heating everything up. Reminds him of back when he was a kid when is mom was lucid enough to be up and about and heating up leftovers that they would then eat together. He has to take a moment, his hands braced against the countertop.

He hasn’t thought about that in a _long_ time.

“Jason?”

He opens his eyes again and looks over at the injured bird sitting on his shitty couch, in his shitty apartment. His one eye is now much more swollen and the bruises on his face seem much more pronounced especially because of the wretched lighting of his safehouse. It’s kinda hard to look at, if he’s being honest.

The microwave beeps ending their staring match.

He puts the food on dishes pulls out a couple forks and walks back into the living room.

“Shove over.” The kid pulls his legs closer to himself, wincing as the movement jostles his ankle. It does give Jason enough room to sit on the couch. Once he’s seated, he hands one of the plates over to the Replacement. They don’t share any words while they eat, which Jason is eternally grateful for. He can, however, feel eyes on him through the entirety of their meal.

Once they’re finished, he takes their dishes and brings them to the sink. He spends the time washing them, drying them, and putting them away, pushing back having to talk with the kid.

However, he’s run out of things to busy himself with. Guess it’s time to bite the bullet, as they say.

He wanders back over, slumping back down into his spot on the couch.

He closes his eyes, exhaustion weighing him down.

“I can feel your burning need to ask questions, so out with it.” Jason grumbles.

“Why didn’t you come home?” The kid’s voice is subdued, nervous.

Jason turns his head, and blinks at the Replacement. “You really asking me that?”

“Yes.” He says with conviction.

“Well…I have no home to go back to.” Jason admits, quietly.

The kid looks even more confused. “But…I…I don’t understand! That makes no sense!” He throws his hands in the air, hissing when it jars his probably aching ribs.

“Kid,” Jason begins, “just leave it alone.”

“Does Bruce know your back?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “No. And he won’t know until _I_ tell him. So, keep your mouth shut about it.” He glares at the Replacement.

The kid huffs a frustrated breath.

“How long have you been back?”

Jason spends a moment considering. “Been back with the living? Three years, maybe. In Gotham? Couple of months.”

The Replacement’s good eye widens further. “Three years? But…” His mouth’s forming words, but nothing is coming out.

“I had some shit to work through for a while. Now I’m back and ready to do what needs to be done.”

The kid tilts his head, making himself look more like the little bird he is. “What does that _mean_?”

“Not something you have to worry about, baby bird.” The endearment slips out without him consciously thinking about it. Oh well. It was bound to come out at some point.

Jason stands, stretching. “Well, this has been loads of fun but now it’s time for sleep.”

“Wait…What about me? Bruce is probably really worried…”

It takes a moment for Jason to reign in his anger at the words. “He’ll live. Get some sleep. I’ll drop you off in the morning.”

He doesn’t look back at the kid as he wanders into the bedroom. He shuts the door and leans back against it, limbs heavy. Now he has to figure out how he’s going to get the injured little bird home without tipping his hand and alerting Bruce to who he is. That time will be coming soon enough.

He wanders over and collapses on top of the bed, waiting for sleep to take him. He’s hoping the nightmares don’t plague him too badly tonight. It’s not something he wants the kid to have to witness.

The last thing he hears as he drifts off is the even breathing of the sleeping bird in the other room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> So, I'll be doing my best to post a new update every Saturday, if I can. We'll see how that goes, since I'm back in school now. Anyways, I really appreciate all of your support! It means a lot to me!

The next morning, Jason wakes with the rising sun. He still feels like absolute shit. The nightmares still linger. His hands are still lightly trembling.

He takes a bit longer than he normally would to get ready for the day, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. It doesn’t work. Not that he really expected it to.

Jason walks into the main living area where the kid is passed out on the couch. The kid’s bruises don’t look as bad in this new light. His mouth is also wide open, with drool leaking out of one corner, light snores escaping. Jason just rolls his eyes at the sight, lips twitching up ever so slightly.

The Robin uniform is a bit of a mess. Most of that is from Jason cutting it off the kid to get to his injuries. He ends up bundling the wrecked uniform into an old duffel bag he found in the closet. Good enough, he thinks. He then goes to grab a couple non-descript motorcycle helmets from somewhere else in the apartment. The Red Hood one would draw too much unwanted attention. Best to keep a low profile.

“Come on. Up and at ‘em, baby bird.” Jason gently kicks the couch to get Tim’s attention.

The kid jerks awake, scanning his surroundings rapidly. “Wha..?” He blinks a few more times then stares up at Jason. “It wasn’t a dream?” His words are only a little bit slurred from sleep.

“‘Fraid not.” Jason replies, handing one of the helmets to the kid, then helps pull him up off the couch. He’s shaky and stiff with his arm tight around Jason’s shoulders. It’s a bit awkward since the kid is much shorter than him, but they seem to be able to make it work. “Let’s go.” They walk/hop their way to the door. Jason is practically carrying him at this point.

“Jason?” The kid asks, once Jason’s hand lands on the doorknob.

“What?”

“Well, um…”

“Just spit it out, baby bird.”

The kid lowers his face and says quietly, “You—you were screaming last night.”

Jason stiffens for a brief moment, before carefully relaxing his muscles. This is what he wanted to avoid happening. He sighs. “Well, being brutally murdered will give you some pretty nasty dreams.”

The kid gives him a wide-eyed stare, mouth dropping open in surprise, like he can’t believe Jason would say something like that. That those words would come out of _anyone’s_ mouth.

“Come on. We gotta get you back before a bunch of Bats rain down on me.” He half-heartedly jokes, smiling down at the kid to ease some of the tension.

He’s allowed to make light of his own death. It’s only fair.

They slowly make their way out of the apartment and down the stairs. It’s slow going because the stairwell wasn’t really meant to accommodate someone Jason’s size very well and he’s also holding onto another person at the same time. The kid’s tiny, but still. They kind of end up having to go down the stairs sideways. They must look ridiculous right now. By the time they make it outside the baby bird is panting with a white knuckled grip on the fabric at Jason’s shoulder. They pause so Tim can catch his breath. When Jason thinks he can handle moving again, he starts heading towards the back of the building. They finally make it to where Jason’s motorcycle is parked. He has Tim lean against the bike for a moment while he adjusts the bag so it’s more secure and puts his own helmet on.

“Ready to go, kid?” Jason asks, as he puts the other helmet on said kid. Tim gives a quick nod. Jason helps him climb on behind him, being careful with his busted ankle. Once Tim’s settled, he grabs fistfuls of Jason’s leather jacket, his arms tight bands around Jason’s midsection.

Jason revs the engine a couple times, and then they’re off.

He tries to make the ride as smooth as possible, so as not to agitate any of Tim’s numerous injuries. He knows he doesn’t succeed by the kid’s arms squeezing around him whenever they hit a bad patch of road. Good thing it’s a fairly quick trip. They drive for maybe ten minutes before they reach their destination. He parks in the back of Leslie’s clinic, making sure that none of the cameras will be able to pick up his bike. He helps the kid off the motorcycle, then turns himself into a human crutch again as he helps him hobble to the door. He leans Tim against the wall beside it. Tim’s gulping in breaths, arm curled tightly around his injured ribs. Jason winces at the sight. Busted ribs are a bitch to deal with. He’s speaking from lots of experience. Jason carefully puts the bag with the uniform on one of Tim’s shoulders and takes back the offered helmet.

“Thanks,” the kid says after a moment, shooting hesitant looks up at Jason, “for patching me up.”

“Well, let’s not make a habit of it.” Jason gives him a cheeky grin. He gets a small smile in return.

He ruffles the kid’s hair. “See you around, Timbo.” Jason says, giving him a two fingered salute as he saunters back to his bike. He spares a quick look back at the kid, who gives him a small wave before he pushes through the door into the clinic. Jason guns it out of there, heading back in the direction he came from.

Jason’s going to have to clean up the safehouse today. Get rid of any trace that either of them were ever there. Can’t have the other Bats figuring things out before he’s good and ready. It will suck to see the place go, but he has a couple more locations in the area he can hole up in if he needs to.

When he’s finished with his thorough cleaning of the place, smelling faintly of bleach, he decides to drive to another part of the city. Kind of on a whim, if he’s being honest. He parks near a small coffee shop called _Deja Brew_. Jason snorts at the name. He hangs his helmet on the handlebars and starts walking up to the front door. It’s not busy inside from what he can tell through the large windows. Perfect.

He steps through the entrance to the sound of a tinkling bell.

“Hey, hon! What can I get started for ya?” The bubbly barista at the counter asks.

Jason gives her a small smile, no teeth. “What would you recommend?”

She taps her chin with a finger in consideration, eyes raised slightly upward. She turns back to him. “Well, I do love a mocha myself… And anything iced is always a win in my book.”

“I’ll take a medium iced mocha than.” He pulls out his wallet, as she inputs his order into the register.

“Alright. Will that be all for you?”

Jason nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! Your total comes out to $4.15.”

“Keep the change.” He says, as he hands over a $5 bill.

“Thanks.” She smiles brightly at him. “I’ll have that out for you shortly. Make yourself comfortable.” She gestures to the myriad of seating to choose from.

Jason is able to find a small table near the back of the café with a sightline to all the exits as well as the few other costumers in the building with him. He pulls out his laptop from his beat-up backpack, stretching his legs out under the table. Sometimes he forgets how different his body is. Longer legs and arms, broader shoulders, stubble… It’s still mind boggling to Jason sometimes. Takes him a moment to adjust. He shakes the thoughts from his head then turns his attention back to his computer. What should he check on first?

Well, first order of business is checking on the baby bird. He hacks into the cameras by the clinic to make sure that Tim is being cared for and on his way back home. He watches the footage from when he dropped him off, all the way to when Bruce comes and picks him up. He sees them walk out the back door together. Tim’s on crutches, with new bandages around his head, and some actual splints on his broken fingers. Bruce is carrying the duffel bag with the Robin uniform in it. His lips are pulled down into a harsh frown and there are very pronounced dark circles under his eyes. Looks like the Bat didn’t get much sleep last night. Ha! _That’s what you get_ , _old man,_ Jason mocks in his head

The barista walks over as he exits out of the screen with the cameras and places his drink down on the table. “Enjoy.” She says, bright smile lighting up her face.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, bringing the drink closer to him.

“Anytime.” And with a flip of her purple hair, she’s gone.

Jason takes an experimental sip of the beverage. It’s actually really good! How has he missed out on this deliciousness? Oh yeah, the whole death and resurrection thing. He also doesn’t really see Talia as an iced mocha kind of person. 

He turns back to his computer ready to start checking on other things. Maybe he can see what Dickhead is up to. He decides looking at some cameras out in Blüdhaven is actually a good idea. Keeping tabs on Nightwing can’t hurt in the long run, after all. It takes him a bit to spot good ol’ Dick Grayson. He ends up catching Dick walking into a gym at 7:30 a.m. this morning. A little puzzled, Jason pulls up information on said gym. Apparently, Golden Boy has gotten himself a job as a gymnastics teacher. Go figure. He backs out of the surveillance on Dick pretty soon after that revelation. Oracle will notice if he spends too long spying on Goldie.

He checks a couple other places to help cover up his tracks even more, but also to look in on some other people he should try to have a chat with soon. Mostly just some of his informants.

He should probably start planning his next move against Black Mask as well. Jason has to make him desperate enough to spring the Joker from Arkham _and_ to draw the Bats’ attention. It’s going to take some careful maneuvering on Jason’s part, but he’s been working on this for a very long time.

Jason knows Black Mask is setting up some arms deals in the next few days; he just doesn’t know where or when exactly they are. He’ll try to hit them up if he can. Really piss the mob boss off. He also needs to try and stay clear of the Bats while he’s at it. Can’t give the game away before it’s time. He’s sure hoping Tim doesn’t rat him out. Not like they’d really believe him even if he did tell them. He does have that nasty cut on his head, and from what Jason could tell, at least a mild concussion. And Jason was careful in covering the rest of his tracks. And, oh, he’s also supposed to be buried in Gotham Cemetery right now, so there’s that going for him. The only evidence of the claim will be the baby bird’s word that he had seen an alive Jason. The kid’s smart, he’ll know they won’t believe him without proof. Jason’ll just have to be careful and make sure one Timothy Drake doesn’t _get_ that proof.

He spares a quick glance at the corner of his screen to check the time. Turns out it’s almost 9:00 a.m. Time to get moving than. Lots to do and all.

Jason puts his computer away in his bag, tosses his empty cup, gives a small wave to the barista, and walks out the door ready to fuck some shit up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Panic Attack
> 
> Hello everyone! I just wanted to thank you all for you support! It means so much to me. I'm also really glad you all are enjoying this little story I cooked up! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next installment!

This is not his night. This is _definitely_ not his night. He wasn’t expecting Golden Boy to be patrolling here in Gotham. Looking back, it’s a stupid oversight on his part, seeing as Robin is out of commission at the moment. Of course, Batman would call in his other bird as backup. Jason should have anticipated that. He had been a Bat once after all. Less than ideal, but guess he’ll just have to roll with it.

Both Batman and Nightwing are hot on his tail as he dashes from rooftop to rooftop, keeping just out of their reach. They’re gaining on him though.

This isn’t supposed to happen. He’d been careful. He’d stayed in the shadows, staying more myth than man. That way all the Bats would have on the Red Hood would be rumors and speculation. Jason’s still surprised they’d even stumbled upon him. He’d just been gathering information from a guy who has details on Black Mask’s next arms shipment. And the deal is going down tonight. Figures the Bats would also have him as an informant and are _also_ interested in knowing about any moves Black Mask is making. But Jason really needs to get to that deal happening later tonight. That’s his in. It’s going to piss off Black Mask and he’ll undoubtably be able to convince at least one of the mooks on the Mask’s payroll to deliver his message to the fucker. He’d rather not wait any longer, especially since now the Bats know he exists as a flesh and blood person. He really doesn’t want to be dealing with this shit right now. Gotham and her _goddamn_ vigilantes…

This might have almost felt like old times, Jason muses, if only he wasn’t currently the one being chased. Running across rooftops alongside his mentor and his predecessor. Batman, Nightwing, and Robin…

They’re getting a bit too close now. Fuck. He’s glad Tim’s still laid up with his busted ankle. Things would not have gone well if he were out here with them. He would probably say Jason’s name, and since he is not immune to the power of baby birds _apparently_ , he would have responded, throwing away all he’s been working on in an instant. Jason does wonder if he’s holed up in the Cave tonight, watching this whole thing go down, biting his tongue so he doesn’t reveal Jason’s secret. It would make sense. Jason used to do the same thing when he was laid up with an injury.

Finally, he’s nearing where he stashed his bike. Just a couple more blocks to go. Jason needs to find a way to ditch his pursuers and then he’ll be home free.

Wait. There’s only the sound of one pair of boots behind him…

Next thing he knows, Nightwing is popping up in front of him, escrima sticks at the ready. Jason doesn’t waste a moment. He barrels right into Dick, tackling him to the roof. He quickly rolls back to his feet, ready to book it. He doesn’t get the chance as Dick’s already back up, kicking Jason solidly in the chest. The body armor absorbs most of the hit, but he’s still slightly winded by it. Jason comes back with a fist to Goldie’s face, blood now dripping from his split lip.

“And who might you be?” Nightwing asks, his tone almost playful. He wipes the blood from his chin with the back of his hand, giving him, what Jason assumes, is a considering look.

“Who the fuck do you think?” Jason spits back, gesturing at the red helmet he’s wearing.

Dick has a smug grin on his face. “Ah, yes. The Red Hood I’ve been hearing so much about.” Within the next blink of an eye, Dick lashes out aiming for his knees. Jason dodges easily but nearly misses the other arm heading towards his head. He stumbles back a bit when it clips him.

“You dick!” Jason shouts, hand going up to inspect the damage. He only finds a mild scratch.

Dick tilts his head in a similar manner to how Tim did the other night. The bastard has an honest-to-god shit-eating grin on his face. What an asshole.

“You don’t have to be so rude.” Dick says, voice filled with mirth. “I thought we’d just have a nice little chat.”

Jason bares his teeth behind the helmet, fists clenching. He can feel bits of green creeping up inside of him.

No. He just needs to get out of here. He’s spent too much time fucking around as is.

“Enough.” Jason growls as he rushes Dick.

They continue to trade blows back and forth, equally matched. It’s been so long since Jason’s fought Dick. He still remembers their sparring matches down in cave. But he’s also learned a few new tricks from his time with the League. He’s hoping Dick doesn’t recognize his fighting style.

Jason needs to find an opening to get away, fast. He also has no idea where Batman is, and he really doesn’t want to find out. That’s when Jason catches the subtle movement of Bruce trying to come at him from behind. Took the bastard long enough.

Fighting both Dick and Bruce at the same time are not odds he can win, especially with him being so unprepared for this confrontation. The time to move is _now,_ before this whole evening goes even further south.

He pulls out one of his guns, firing a warning shot at Bruce’s feet then pistol whips Dick, who goes down hard, a hand clutching his now bleeding head. Jason only feels a brief moment of guilt over it, but then vaults himself quickly over the edge of the roof using the fire escapes to make a quick descent to the alley below.

“I’m fine, _go_!” He hears Dick tell Bruce as his feet hit the pavement.

He books it those couple more blocks before he sees it. His bike, right where he left it. Thank God. He makes a break for it, outright sprinting, knowing the other two are almost on him again.

As soon as he gets to his bike, he hops on, slams it into gear, and speeds down the street passed both Bats, throwing them a quick salute as he passes them by, right as they enter the alley.

That was way too close. It’s not anywhere near time to reveal himself yet. He also can’t have Dickface getting in the way of his plan either. This is between Bruce, Jason, and the monster who murdered him.

As he continues driving, he maneuvers his way through the streets at breakneck speeds, trying to throw off any tail he might have. Can’t have them following him. He also needs to check for and get rid of any trackers before he lets himself get down to the business he’s _supposed_ to get to tonight.

He ends up finding an empty warehouse not far from where the deal is said to be going down. He crushes the burner phone he has on him leaving the pieces scattered on the warehouse floor, just in case He does a couple sweeps of his bike and clothes. He finds a tracker on his bike and a couple planted on his jacket. Bats and their toys. He tosses them into a corner. If he had more time it would be a great place to set up a trap, but alas, he has other things to do.

Jason makes his way to the location of the deal, both parties already present. He scans the rooftops for any signs of a Bat. When he deems it clear, he scales a nearby fire escape to get a better viewpoint of what’s going down. Jason quickly scans the abandoned parking lot. There’s only six people there. Three dealers, three buyers. This should be easy.

He creeps back down and stealthily makes his way behind one of the people on the dealers’ side. He grabs him in a chokehold, gun pressing firmly against his temple.

“What do we have here?” Jason drawls, lips curling up a little. “You’re having a party and I wasn’t invited?”

The others all draw their own firearms, aiming them at him.

“Hood.” One of them sneers.

“Play nice or I won’t.” Jason warns.

“Whadda you want?” One of the buyers demands, lips drawing back into an angry line.

“What do I want?” He releases a short bark of laughter. “I want you to give Black Mask a little message for me. Can you do that? Tell him that _I_ run this city. _Not_ him. And if he tries anything, I’ll be coming for him next.”

“You’re crazy, man!” One of the others exclaims, waving their gun around. “Black Mask will put you six feet under!”

“Been there, done that.” Jason retorts back, pressing the muzzle of the gun into his hostage’s head a little harder. “Batman can’t touch me, so I’m not really too worried about whatever Black Mask _thinks_ he can do to me.”

A guy wearing a suit and tie steps forward, finger on the trigger. “The Bat don’t scare us and neither do you.”

Between one blink and the next the guy drops to the ground, bullet hole between his eyes.

“Well, you should be scared.” He snarls. “The Bat’s got nothing on me.” Jason looks at the surprised faces of the others around him. “Now hop along and go deliver my message. If you don’t,” He pauses for just a moment, “I’ll know.”

With those final words, he shoves his hostage into the gathered crowd. He pulls out a small explosive device from one of the pockets in his jacket and tosses it into the box of guns they were trying to sell. “Better run.” He says over his shoulder, grin pulling at the corner of his lips as he slinks back into the shadows.

As he’s making his way back up to the roofs, the explosion goes off. He’s hoping this will be the cherry on top of his display for Black Mask. One more step towards the inevitable. Jason’ll go spook him at some point soon, to really drive home the point. Make him desperate enough to resort to extreme measures. He almost can’t wait.

However, when he gets to the roof, he just crouches, looking down at the now smoldering box of illegal firearms. Then he spots Dick flipping down to street level before walking over to the fire. Batman emerges from the shadows, like the dramatic bastard he is, to join him. Jason just watches. Not really sure why. It’s not like he can’t just slip away without them noticing.

He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see just how seamlessly they work together. The Dynamic Duo in action once again. This was really rare when Jason was first brought into the fold. Dick and Bruce were still on the outs for most of his time living in the Manor.

Jason’s lips pull down in a frown as he watches them do their thing. He still remembers nights like this. Kicking ass, solving mysteries, feeling like magic. It seems like a lifetime ago. In a sense, it was. A life that’s gone now, that he can never have back. As he stares at them, he feels a sharp, twisting pain in his chest. He wishes he could just run up to them, tell them it’s him, he’s back, and that he wants to come home.

But…he can’t…won’t. How could Jason ever go back? How can he go back when he’s changed so much? With everything he knows now? He’s not the little boy they once knew and loved. That’s not who he is anymore. He’s not Dick’s brother… Bruce’s son. He’s something else… Something darker, twisted. He came back wrong. He knows that. Now all he has is his plan for justice. Justice for _himself_ and for so many others. Justice in the form of the Joker dead and forcing Bruce to make that choice. The choice to _avenge_ him. Prove that Jason _meant_ something. That he’d _mattered_. That his dad had _loved_ him.

Jason blinks back to himself. His face is wet from tears. _When did that happen?_ He blinks rapidly trying to clear his vision. It takes a little bit for his eyes to focus back on the scene below. Dick and Bruce are gone. For how long? He has no idea.

Jason inhales sharply. He can’t believe he lost himself like that. He thought he’d gotten past his longing for the good old days. For a sense of safety and family…for his dad. God, Bruce is going to hate knowing what he’s become. Hate _him_. _Hate…him_ …

Jason gasps, his chest constricting, forcing the remaining air from his lungs. He can’t breathe. There’s no air anymore. There’s no air anywhere. He’s lost, floating, tetherless. There’s _nothing_ … _He’s_ nothing. Why can’t he breathe? Why does everything hurt so much?

He curls into himself, arms around his head, trying desperately to pull any oxygen into his body. He just lays there, trembling. Tears drip steadily down his face.

It could be minutes, hours, days later before he starts to come back to himself. He lies there gulping in large, grateful lungfuls of air. Jason gathers himself slowly, then shakily gets to his feet. He still feels so unsteady, unbalanced, unmoored…

God, that was horrible. And all because he went and got a little nostalgic. He’s an idiot. A _fucking_ idiot. He doesn’t have a home _or_ a family. Not anymore. He’s not their Jason and he never _will_ be. Too much has happened to him to ever be the same naïve kid who ran halfway across the world to find a mother who never even wanted him in the first place. The one who betrayed him. Now he’s here to do what must be done and that’s _it_. That’s his purpose, his goal.

As he fires his grapple ready to leap off the edge, an image of Tim pops into his head. Maybe his other purpose can be to make sure this new Robin doesn’t die. There will be no more dead Robins if Jason has anything to say about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Buried Alive, Character's mouth is sewn shut
> 
> Hello!
> 
> So, I really put Jason through it this chapter. Am I sorry? Maybe just a little. Anyways, I really appreciate all the support you keep gifting me! I really appreciate it! And I hope you enjoy this new chapter

He’s laying on something soft. That’s the first thing he notices. It feels like he’s being gently cradled. The feeling doesn’t last long. He tries to sit up but his head smacks against—something—before he even makes it up a few inches.

It doesn’t make sense… He blinks his eyes open. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Why is it so dark? What happened to him? Where _is_ he?

He tries to open his mouth to call out for help, but something is preventing it. There’s a faint tugging sensation. With shaking fingers, he reaches up and feels along the seam of his lips and finds…thread? Why is there thread in his mouth? His chest tightens at the realization. _Oh no_. Someone sewed his mouth shut!? _Please. Oh, God._ Without really thinking about it, he forces his mouth open, gasping for air. The threads snap, blood fills his mouth. He gags at the taste. He chokes on it, as coughs rattle his aching body. The blood starts to drip down his quivering chin. Everything hurts. Even breathing.

“He—Hello?” He calls out into the darkness, desperate for…anything really. Anything besides this hollow nothingness. Only silence answers him. “B—Bruce?” His voice is quiet and uneven. There’s no way anyone would be able to hear that. _Pull yourself together_ , he berates himself.

“Br—Bruce?” He says, louder this time. Still nothing. But now that he’s paying a little more attention to his surroundings _,_ he can’t really hear much of anything besides his own harsh breathing and the wild beating of his heart.

“Bruce…?” He hits a fist against the surface in front of him. “Dad!?” It’s getting harder to breathe. What’s going on? Did something happen? Where’s Dad? Is he looking for him?

“Where am I?” He whispers through trembling lips, tears slipping down his temples.

He starts feeling along the surface above him, hoping to find answers. Experimentally, he pulls the padding away finding wood underneath… That doesn’t make any sense. Where is he? What’s going on? Who put him here?

His breaths are coming in short pants. He’s starting to feel a little lightheaded. No. He needs to focus. He needs to _do_ something. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s inside some type of box. And he’s wearing a suit… Why would he be wearing a suit? And not even his Robin suit, one he might wear to one of Bruce’s stupid galas.

Wait… No. _No no no_. This can’t be real… Is this… A coffin? Is he in a _coffin?!_

“BRUCE!” He screams. “DAD, _please_!”

He rams his fist into the lid. “Please…” Please, dad, get him out of this. He doesn’t want to die here. Not like this. He hits the lid again and again, choking on sobs. Hot tears spill over. His fists keep pounding against the solid wood above him. It _has_ to give. _Please!_ There’s a crack. His fingers are throbbing. He must have broken a couple—but he can’t stop. He needs to get out of here…His belt buckle! He reaches down uncinching the belt from his hips, holding the buckle in one of his fists, slamming it up into the unforgiving wood trapping him in this hell. Again and again and again. He doesn’t stop, can’t… He can’t die here. He drives his fist up again and again and again until there’s a break in the wood. Dirt trickles in through the crack. Without wasting another moment, he drops the buckle and starts clawing his way through the splintered wood, tearing through it, looking for salvation. He can feel blood running down his arms, but he doesn’t dare stop. More dirt keeps falling in the bigger he makes the hole.

Finally, there is a space big enough for him to fit through. He shoves his arms up, digging through the earth above him, clawing his way towards anywhere that isn’t _here_. He keeps pushing himself up and up and up. The ground is wet and all consuming. It feels like he’s swimming through a slick sludge. It’s taking all of his strength to keep moving. The surface feels so far away, out of reach. He keeps going. Can’t stop. Just a little more. He can make it. He _has_ to make it. He shoves his arm up again—and he feels it. Rain. On his hand.

He pulls himself from the wet, sucking ground, scrabbling for purchase. He faintly realizes he’s missing quite a few fingernails. But everything is becoming distant, more and more muddled. He’s struggling to string thoughts together. He’s just so confused. Where is he? Why is he here? Why does all of him hurt so much? Where’s Bruce? Where’s _Dad_?

He’s finally pulled himself completely free from his underground prison, from the mud that tried to swallow him up again. He collapses in the grass, sucking in grateful gulps of damp air, letting the rain wash away the dirt and the blood and the ash that lingers in his mouth. He’s soaked to the bone now, shivers raking his spent body. After a long time of just relishing in his newfound freedom, he slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position, arms shaking like that of a newborn deer. He’s aching everywhere. The pain is all encompassing. He turns his head slowly, almost afraid to look—but he has to—and glances over to the hole he just crawled his way out of. That’s when he spots it. _This can’t be happening._ He sucks in a sharp breath, his world crashing down around him. Right in front of him is an ornate grave marker. Inscribed on it is _his_ name. Jason. Peter. Todd.

Jason jerks awake, scream echoing in the room around him. The scream tapers off to nothing, leaving him sucking in quick gasps of air. Jason’s eyes dart around the bedroom. He’s safe now. He’s not in that _box_. His hands are aching. He looks down at them, checking to see if they are still mangled from his escape. Nothing. He doesn’t even have scars from that night anymore. They are the exact same as they were before he went to bed. It’s a bittersweet realization. He has no proof that that night even happened. Nothing but what’s inside his head.

Jason buries his head in his raised hands. A sob bubbles up. Then another and another. He can’t stop them. Doesn’t even try. They just keep coming. He’s just sitting in his bed, sobbing his goddamn heart out. He wishes Dad were here… No. He doesn’t _have_ a dad. Doesn’t _need_ one. He’s _no one’s_ son. He’s the Red _fucking_ Hood. He does not need _anything_ from _anyone_ else. Especially Bruce. He can handle this, just like he always does.

It doesn’t matter that Bruce used to peer into his room, somehow sensing something was wrong, that he’d had a nightmare. He’d ask, ‘What’s wrong, Jaylad?’ in that soft, hesitant tone of his. Jason would say ‘Nothing’ and hope Bruce would see past the deflection. He always did. He would step further into the room and pull the armchair right up to the bed, right by Jason. He would then run his fingers through Jason’s hair, soothing him body and soul. Bruce would either read something to him or just sit their brushing his fingers through Jason’s unruly bangs over and over again until he fell back asleep.

He doesn’t have that now. Won’t ever have it again. Even though deep, deep down inside he wishes he did.

But he can’t. He has to stay focused, stay on target. There is no more room for a normal life. He lost that chance when his birth mother sold him out to the Joker, when the Joker murdered him, when Talia dumped him in the Lazarus Pit, when Bruce let his murderer live, when Bruce let another child wear the colors he _died_ in…

His sobs have lessened to just wet, raspy breaths. He feels like shit.

Jason stands slowly, then stumbles his way to the adjoining bathroom. He flips on the lights, one of the bulbs flickers faintly. Jason sighs tiredly. A bone deep weariness shrouds him. He turns the faucet on, splashing his face with lukewarm water. It doesn’t really help. When he looks up, the face that greets him is the one he’s always known—but also a stranger’s.

His face shape is the same. He still has the same nose, with less breaks due to the healing powers of the Pit. He still has the Todd jawline, much to his disappointment. His eyes travel lower. Without a shirt he can clearly see the jagged scars that line his torso. The Lazarus Pit was able to heal most of them, but there are some that remain; the bigger, more painful ones. Scars he wishes had disappeared like the others. He traces the ridges of this one, biting his lip to keep it from trembling. It’s horrible to look at. The scars begin at both his shoulders, traveling down, meeting at his sternum, and continuing all the way to his navel. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. He should have worn a shirt to bed.

He pulls his eyes back up to his face, trying his best to ignore the rest of his body. His perpetually unruly bangs now have a white streak in them, curtesy of—something. He doesn’t really remember. He just remembers looking in a mirror after coming out of the Pit and seeing it there. Could have been from that or from waking up in his own coffin. He shudders at the thought, dream/nightmare/memory still fresh and raw. Jason stares a little more, cataloguing his features. His eyes are more green than they were when he was younger, he realizes. There used to be more blue once upon a time.

Would Bruce even be able to recognize him anymore? Would Dick? Alfred? Tim had, but he also hadn’t known Jason before he died. He’s changed too much from the boy he used to be. Too different from the boy they used to know. Now there’s nothing of that him left. He’s just rage and vengeance.

Jason looks away from his reflection, tears threatening to spill over, his hands clutching the edge of the counter in a white knuckled grip. No. No more. He can’t be thinking about that, about who he used to be. There’s no time for that. It’s time for action. It’s time to put his full plan into motion.

Jason takes a couple deep breaths, gives his new face one last look before wandering back out the door. He goes and picks up his guns from the side table, then strides out to the main common area. He sets himself up on the couch and starts methodically cleaning his weapons with practiced movements. It soothes him. Focuses him. Just how he’d been trained.

Hours pass like that. Just him and the motion of his cleaning rag. The sun starts to peek over the buildings, casting the room in soft morning light.

It’s a new day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief mentions of suicidal ideation (in regards to Bruce right after he lost Jason)
> 
> Hello and welcome to another chapter!
> 
> Again, thank you everyone for the support! It's been amazing! Your comments brighten my days! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and I'll be back with another update next week!

What a rush! Jason hasn’t had this much fun in, well, awhile. Seeing Black Mask scamper away like the coward he is was everything Jason could have hoped for and more. Now Black Mask’s furious, scared, and, hopefully, desperately in need of a certain _someone’s_ help. Jason’s nudged him in the right direction, now all he needs to do is wait for him to take the bait. Next up will be baiting Batman himself. Shouldn’t be too hard. With the Joker involved, Bruce will come running. He always does.

It’s a nice night. Pleasantly warm, a gentle breeze to cool him off, and no toxic chemicals permeating the air. Couldn’t have asked for more. Jason’s found himself a quiet spot to hang out for a bit, away from any prying cameras. He’s currently sitting on a rooftop closer to the old industrial district, helmet resting on the ledge next to him, cigarette between his chapped lips. Smoke curls lazily into the air as Jason closes his eyes and listens to the city breathe around him.

The soft sound of someone landing behind him breaks him from his relaxation. He looks over his shoulder and sees Robin standing there. He takes one final drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. He can see the kid’s nose scrunching up in disgust.

“That’s littering, you know.” He says with all the authority he can muster. Which isn’t a lot. Or maybe Jason’s just immune. Who’s to say?

Jason chuckles, “I don’t think one cigarette butt is really going to do that much damage.”

He can’t see the kid’s eyes behind the mask, but he knows deep down in his gut that the baby bird just rolled his eyes at him. Brat. The kid walks over and plants himself right next to Jason like they’re old friends.

“I thought you’d be off the street longer. Those weren’t injuries you can really bounce back from in a couple of weeks.” Jason muses. Not that he hadn’t tried the same thing when he was younger. Or that he hasn’t done that more recently either.

“Well, um, they don’t really know that I’m out here.” Tim admits, shoulders rising up towards his ears, eyes lowered in something akin to shame.

“What?” Jason’s lips draw down into a frown, turning to face Tim more fully.

“It’s just—” He takes a moment to consider his next words. “I was checking cameras and I caught a glimpse of you heading this way. I decided to come and talk to you.”

The kid came all the way out here to talk to him?

He can’t focus on that right now. “And you don’t think the other Bats are going to notice?” Jason has a hard time believing that. Robins leaving without a word would probably be a sore subject for the others seeing as that’s what Jason did when he left for the last time.

“I left a note for Agent A. I told him I was going to head home for the night.” Oh great, he left a note. Just like Jason. Again. Hold on…

Jason throws up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait…You don’t live in the Manor?” What the hell?

“Uh, no. I live with my dad usually. I mean, sometimes I’ll stay at the Manor if I’m really injured or if it’s really late and I have school in the morning or if dad’s out of town.” The kid rambles.

Jason didn’t know the kid had a dad who wasn’t Bruce. He kind of figured Bruce had found himself another black haired, blue eyed orphan to adopt. He probably should have done more research on the kid.

“So, if you’re not an orphan like the rest of us, how’d B find you?” Jason asks, curiosity burning inside of him.

“Um, well,” The kid chuckles,” Funny story. He, uh, didn’t really find me. I found him.” Again, what the hell?

Tim must’ve seen his confused look and continues, “I kind of already knew who he was, you know, under the cowl. And when you…well—" He pauses.

“Died?”

“Yeah, when you died, um, B was not doing great. He was getting more and more violent. Criminals he wouldn’t have normally beat up as bad came out of the fights much worse for wear than, well, before. And…” Tim looks away, out at the city around them. “He wasn’t really trying to stay alive either.” His voice is soft, sad.

Jason’s brows furrow. Bruce is a pillar of strength, both mentally and physically. Losing Jason shouldn’t have sent him off the deep end enough to want to kill himself. That doesn’t fit with the image Jason has of him. He’s Batman, he doesn’t fall apart like that. He shouldn’t…can’t.

“So, I decided to do something about it.” Tim continues, not noticing Jason’s minor crisis. “I went to the Manor and told him that I knew who he was, that he’s Batman, and that I’d seen how he’d been spiraling, and that Batman _needs_ a Robin.”

Jason doesn’t believe that. Not anymore. Robin was supposed to die with _him_.

“I did go talk to N first though. But he said he couldn’t be Robin again. Couldn’t be Batman’s partner. That he’d found himself as Nightwing. Or something like that. B didn’t even want me to be Robin at first. Was pretty adamant that he’d never have another partner again. But then I went and saved him and N from Two-Face and _then_ he finally agreed to train me.” All of that had been said in a rush with plenty of hand movements to emphasize his points.

Okay, what the actual fuck? Who was this kid? Jason looks at him, shock probably written all over his face. “You said you already knew who he was—under the mask?”

“Oh. Yeah! Figured it out when I was _nine_.” Tim gives him a small, proud smile.

“Um, okay. What the actual hell?” Jason boggles at the kid before him. This child at _nine_ figured out one of Batman’s most closely guarded secrets; his civilian ID. Either they’d been slacking, or this kid is one hell of a detective.

“I figured out Robin number one first. He has a very particular skill set, you know. I saw Robin do a move that I recognized on the news one night and put the pieces together from there.”

Jason snorts. No wonder Bruce couldn’t say no to this kid. He’s a bonafide chip off the old Bat block. “You’re something else, kid.” Jason says, shaking his head in amusement.

He reaches out and ruffles Tim’s hair. Tim squawks indignantly, trying his best to bat Jason’s hand away. Jason just laughs but does eventually leave him alone.

“So, the big, bad Bat just believed your story?” Jason teases.

“I did have proof, so…” Tim admits, shrugging his shoulders trying in vain to fix his mussed-up hair.

“Proof?” Jason raises an eyebrow in question.

“I have pictures.” Tim says candidly.

Jason takes a moment, stares at the kid’s face more intently. Tim shifts, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Jason snaps, pointing a finger at the kid. “I remember you! You were that kid with the camera!” The realization is so startling. Jason’s surprised he hadn’t put it together sooner.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” Tim acknowledges, red rising in his cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears. It’s kinda adorable.

Jason lets out a surprised laugh then pulls Tim into a headlock.

“Should have figured you’d get involved in this mess, baby stalker.” Tim elbows Jason in the ribs at that comment. Jason just brushes off the hit. “Are you saying you blackmailed _the_ Batman?”

“I wouldn’t _really_ call it blackmail.” The kid huffs, resigning himself to Jason’s hold, relaxing into his side, head resting on his shoulder.

“What would _you_ call it then?” Jason asks, lips pulling up into an amused smile.

“Stating my case.” Tim declares matter-of-factly.

Jason snorts. “Why am I not surprised?” Then he goes in for a noogie.

“Jay! Quit it!” Tim shrieks, struggling to get away. Jason just laughs.

Finally, Jason releases him. Tim sits up and tries to fix his even more messed up hair. Not like it’s going to help.

It’s actually kinda nice to just sit and talk with Tim. He hasn’t really talked to someone else without the threat of violence hanging over him in a while. Hasn’t laughed this hard either in—well—he doesn’t even remember when. There hasn’t really been much to laugh about. And Tim is not what he expected at all. He’s clever and insightful, and surprisingly funny. He also has a dad that’s alive, which is just…. Jason wonders if Tim’s dad knows about his nightlife. Jason’s not sure which is worse. Tim’s dad knowing about Robin and having no problems with his kid running around beating up criminals every night or if he doesn’t have a clue because he’s not around enough to notice. It’s not a pleasant thought.

On another note, the kid snuck out just to see him. _Him!_ Jason has no idea why he’d do that. It’s not like Jason’s the best company.

“So…” The kid starts, “I don’t really know much about who you are. Like, I know some things from—the others, but I want to hear it from you. Like—what’s your favorite color? Your favorite movie? Favorite type of cookie?”

Jason raises an eyebrow and tries to hold back his laughter. They’re innocent enough questions, no harm in answering them. “Well, my favorite color is red.” He gestures down at the Red Hood helmet by his side.

“Red?” Tim looks at him in mild confusion. “They said it was green.”

Jason’s smile drops. Oh, right. His favorite color used to be green way back when. But waking up in just a sea of it, feeling his insides knitting themselves back together, rage burning inside of him. That changes how you feel about a color. He still has nightmares about waking up in the Pit, trying to draw in breath but choking on green, green, green… So, no. It’s not his favorite color.

“Not anymore.” He states simply, turning his face away from Tim.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Tim’s voice is hesitant and a little bit shaky.

“It’s fine, kid. You didn’t know.” Jason tells him, voice soft.

“You…” Tim begins, anxiously pulling at his gloves. “You seem mad at B. You two used to be really close and—I just want to know why you’re so upset.”

Jason takes a moment to just breathe. In and out. In and out. “It’s complicated.” Jason doesn’t think the kid will appreciate hearing Jason’s grievances with Bruce. His hands ache as he holds on tightly to the edge, as if he might tip over into oblivion if he lets go.

“How so?” The kid looks so young and earnest. He doesn’t understand…can’t understand what Jason has seen…what he’s done. Jason’s just a ghost now. A ghost who’s back to haunt Bruce Wayne. To show him what he should have done a long time ago.

Jason stares at Tim for a moment before facing back towards the city, considering what he could say.

He settles on, “You could say I’m not really thrilled to see my murderer alive and kicking.”

Tim has a perplexed look on his face now. “Wait. So, you’re mad at B because he _didn’t_ —kill the Joker?”

Jason glares back at him. “Yes. I’m allowed to be upset that the man, who I considered to be my father, let the man who _murdered_ me live.”

“But Batman doesn’t kill!” Tim exclaims emphatically.

“He could have made an exception for that _monster_.” Jason snarls.

He’s angry. So fucking angry. He thought he had mattered more than the slime and filth that is the Joker. But no. Bruce has proven that that isn’t the case. The clown is still alive to cause even more harm, to ruin even more lives. And he’s still _right_ there in Jason’s head. Laughing. Always fucking _laughing._ He can’t escape it. He hears it all the time. He hears that voice taunting him again and again. Forehand. Backhand. Over and over. An endless loop. He can’t get away from it.

“Jay?” He feels Tim place a careful hand on his forearm.

“You wanna know why else I’m upset?” Jason’s not sure how he got the words past the tightness in his throat.

He sees Tim’s nod in his peripheral.

“He let another kid be Robin.”

“I told you, I…”

Jason cuts him off with a harsh glare. “It doesn’t matter. He should _never_ have let you put that costume on. Or continue to put it on. Robin was supposed to die with _me_.”

Tim looks heartbroken. “But—but Robin _can’t_ die. He’s too important. Robin is what balances out Batman. The light to his dark. Gotham needs a Robin just as much as it needs a Batman.”

“Kid…”

“No!” Tim grabs onto him with both hands. “You’re not listening! Batman needs a Robin. I protect Batman. I _saved_ him—"

“B can save himself.” Jason retorts back, a fire burning inside of him.

Tim sighs in exasperation. “You’re not _getting_ it. I saved Batman _from_ himself.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do that!” Jason’s starting to get worked up. “It’s not your responsibility to save him!”

“But it _is_! He was so broken without you! There might not even be a Batman right now if I hadn’t stepped in.”

Jason has no words. What can he say? Nothing is going to convince this kid that he should give up the costumed vigilante life or that it’s not his job to make sure Batman doesn’t lose himself. That it’s not his job to save Bruce

“Just come home.” Tim pleads, gripping one of Jason’s hands in his own. “Please.”

“I’m not that Jason anymore, Tim.” Jason admits, quietly. Tim’s face falls. “He died in that warehouse.” Jason stands, shaking off Tim’s hold. He picks up his helmet and puts it on.

Tim is standing now too.

Jason notices movement in the distance. He scans the rooftops looking for what caught his eye. There’s a costumed figure coming right for them. The blue bird blazoned across his chest is a dead giveaway.

“Guess that’s my cue.” Jason pulls out his grapnel gun, ready to flee the scene.

“Jason.” He turns to look back at Tim. “I won’t stop trying.”

“I don’t doubt it.” And he really doesn’t. Tim is as stubborn as they come.

Jason faces his city once more and leaps. He shoots out a line and swings away.

“ROBIN!” A voice shouts. Looks like Dickie’s made it. Oracle must have caught the kid at some point on her cameras and sent big brother to come collect their wayward bird. There will most likely be many a lecture before the night is over. And questions. Mainly about him. The Red Hood is a dangerous criminal after all. 

Jason lands a little ways away from where Tim and Dick are standing. He can see and hear both of them from this new perch without them seeing him.

“What were you _thinking_?” Dick demands, hands clutching the kid’s shoulders in a tight grasp, like Dick’s afraid Tim will disappear if he doesn’t hold on. “You’re injured! You should _not_ be on the streets right now. And to make matters worse you decide to go and confront a crime boss. On your own!”

“N, it’s not what you think…” Tim’s tone is imploring. Jason tenses. Sounds like he’s gearing up to reveal Jason’s secret. Tell Dick that Jason’s the one under the hood.

“What’s not what I think?” Dick has his hands on his hips now, looking even more like a scolding parent.

“I know that Red Hood is dangerous, but he won’t hurt me.” Tim insists. “He’s the one that saved me the other night. He’s the one that dropped me off at Leslie’s clinic.”

“Robin—”

“It’s Jason, Dick.” And there it is.

Dick’s head snaps up at that. “What did you say?”

“Red Hood _is_ Jason.” Tim stresses emphatically.

“Jason’s dead, Tim.” Dick’s angry. Jason can tell even from here.

“No, he’s no—”

“That’s enough!” Dick says sharply, cutting Tim off. “Jason is dead. My little brother is gone. And he isn’t coming back.” Jason’s heart twists at the admission. He’d been trying not to think about Dick that much since coming back. But seeing this side of him is bringing back memories. Memories he’d rather not think about.

“I _saw_ him.” Tim insists.

“You saw someone who looked like him.” Dick’s mad, like _really_ mad. Jason’s forgotten about Dick’s temper.

Tim takes a step forward, hands reaching out. “But—”

“Stop. Please, just stop” He sees Dick turn away from Tim, hand covering his eyes, taking deep breaths. Jason recognizes the technique. It’s something Bruce taught them during their Robin training. Dick takes a moment before he pulls himself back together, facing Tim again. “We’re going home now.” His voice betrays none of his earlier emotion. Dick wraps an arm around Tim’s waist and shoots out a line, ready to jump. “And don’t mention _any_ of this to B.” And then they’re gone.

Jason stands there for a moment, trying to process the whole conversation. God, what a mess this has become. He wasn’t supposed to get involved with any of the Bats. Now he has Tim showing up just to talk to him, and he’ll soon have Bigbird to deal with as well. Dick’s not going to let Tim’s comment lie. He’ll investigate to find out who’s decided to wear his dearly departed brother’s face. There’s probably no chance he can avoid running into Dick. He’ll have to try to keep him from finding out who he is, what he’s become. If Dick knew the truth…he would hate him too. Jason knows that they weren’t particularly close, especially in the beginning. But near the end Dick was starting to warm up to him more and more, treating him like a brother. He was Dick’s Little Wing.

Look at him, getting all weepy eyed because he remembered the old nickname Dick gave him. Fuck. He’s better than this. Talia made sure of it.

Jason releases a sigh. He can’t worry about this right now. He has work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> You have more rooftop shenanigans to look forward to this chapter. Apparently, I have a thing for Jason having crises on rooftops, but whatever, I'm sticking with it. Thanks again for all your lovely comments and the love and support you've shown my story! It means a lot! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy!

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh _shit. Oh fuck._ This is not good. Very not good. He’s screwed. Undeniably, royally screwed. He knew this was coming. He fucking _knew_. He hadn’t expected it to happen so soon though. Oh no, oh no, oh no. _Fuck fuck fuck_.

“HOOD!” A voice bellows. A voice Jason knows all too well. But he’s never heard it sound like this. Dick’s found him and he’s _pissed_. The entire time he was living with Bruce he’d _never_ seen Dick this angry before. Not with Bruce when they butted heads, not with Jason when he replaced him, not even with the paps who would talk shit about their family. So, Jason is wholly unprepared for this. Jason needs to get the hell out of here, because Dickie is _not_ playing around right now.

Jason sprints across the rooftop he’s on, arms pumping, hoping beyond hope that he can get away and not have to deal with a seriously pissed off Dick Grayson. But he knows deep in his gut that won’t happen. Dick’s too quick and knows these streets too well for Jason to actually avoid him. Jason reaches the ledge. He steps up and leaps for the building right across from him. Right as his feet leave solid ground, he feels the tension of a grapple line starting to wrap around his ankle. In midair he grabs his knife, twists, and cuts the line in a matter of seconds. Jason sees Dick’s surprise for a split second before he hits the ground. He lands hard, rolls, pushes himself to standing, and then gets ready to run. But Dick’s already on him.

Arms wrap themselves around his torso as Dick drives them both into the cement rooftop. All the breath is forced from Jason’s lungs. Dick is back on his feet; Jason is up seconds after him. Dick is absolutely seething; his lips are pulled back showing his teeth, feral and protective. Jason can _feel_ the rage radiating off of him. This does not bode well for the rest of Jason’s night. _Damnit._

“What do you want with Robin?” Dick hisses, fists raised.

“I don’t want _anything_ from him!” Jason insists, arms raised defensively in response.

Dick lashes out with a kick aimed for Jason’s head. He ducks and backs up a few paces, trying to put a little bit of distance between them.

“Then why was he on that rooftop with you?” Dick begins circling him, slowly.

“He came to _me_.” Jason explains, keeping Dick in his line of sight.

“And why would he do that?” Dick snarls. He lands a kick on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason winces, shaking out his arm. “Hell if I know.”

“Robin says you’re the one who found him the other night. Patched him up, brought him to the clinic.” Dick starts, stepping into Jason’s space. “The thing is, I don’t really believe that.” Jason blocks one of his fists. “How do I know _you_ weren’t the one who hurt him in the _first place_?” Jason blocks the other one.

Jason huffs angrily. “Because the kid _told_ you I didn’t” Jason rams his own fist into Dick’s gut. “He got jumped, I intervened.” Dick sucks in a sharp breath but then gets in even closer. “If I hadn’t been there, they probably would have done their best to smash the little bird to pieces.” Dick screams in rage, elbow smashing into the side of Jason’s helmet, sending him stumbling back. _Fuck_ , that hurt.

He grabs Dick’s head between his hands, and headbutts him. Dick reels back, staggering. He wipes the blood from his nose and gets back into a fighting stance. The whole lower half of his face is now coated in blood, making him look kind of terrifying.

“So, you decided to help out of _what_? The goodness of your heart?” His voice is dripping with bitterness with just a touch of mockery. Jason tries to sweep Dick’s legs, but Dick does a handspring out of the way. Twisty fucking bastard.

“I’m not just going to let some fuckers beat up a _kid._ ” Jason’s tone is icy. Dick blocks his kick and lands a hit near his armpit where his armor is weaker. Son of a bitch…

Dick takes a few steps back. “So, you have a soft spot for kids. Doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re a _murderer_.” They’re just standing now, glaring at one another, panting from the exertion of their fight.

“I’m doing what has to be done! I’m doing what the Bat can’t!” Jason yells with his whole chest. “The people I’ve killed? Sex traffickers, abusers, sick fucking people. I killed them knowing that they could never hurt anybody _ever_ again.” Their victims shouldn’t live their lives in constant fear. Not like Jason’s had to.

“Who are you to decide that?” Dick shoots back, pointing an accusing finger at Jason.

“Because I know what it’s like to be afraid!” Jason’s eyes widen, he hadn’t meant to let that slip. Why’d he say that? And to Dick of all people…

“Someone hurt you and now you’re taking it out on the world?” Dick’s words cut him right to the bone.

Jason can feel his hands shaking, so he balls them up into fists. He has to clench his teeth to keep his chin from trembling.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Jason’s voice is choked. Jason doesn’t know how he got the words to come out.

“What? You don’t think _I’ve_ been hurt? That I’ve been _afraid_?” Disk says sharply, taking a step back towards Jason.

Without really thinking them through, more words spill out of Jason’s mouth. “You weren’t there! You don’t know what he did to me!” Tears slide down his cheeks. His vision blurs.

Dick had left to go on an off-planet mission right before Jason ran away to Ethiopia. Jason doesn’t know when or how Dick found out about his death. Doesn’t know what he was told about it. Doesn’t know what Dick’s reaction was either.

“Who did _what_ to you?” Dick probes, confusion evident in his tone. The anger’s still there, but—less.

Jason crosses his arms over his chest. He bites his lip, hard. His eyes dart away from Dick’s face.

Dick tilts his head quizzically. “Are you someone we didn’t save?” He asks softly. His posture loosens. The fight seems to have drained from him. At least for the moment.

Jason lets out an involuntary sob. Dick wanders closer, still cautious but more open at the same time. The writhing anger seems to have melted away.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop whoever he is from hurting you.” Dick’s voice is gentle now. He raises a hand and places it carefully down on one of Jason’s shoulders. “The man that hurt you? Is he still alive?”

Is he still alive? Every goddamn day Jason wishes that bastard wasn’t. But he’s still here. Haunting Jason day and night, asleep or awake. Never ending. “Yes.” The word is nothing more than a breath on the wind.

Dick still catches it and seems to be considering his next words carefully. “You kill people who hurt others. Why haven’t you killed him?”

Jason stares down at Dick. And isn’t that a strange realization to have, especially at this moment. Jason’s taller than Dick now. By a few inches at least. He’s no longer a young Robin looking up in awe at his older brother.

“I don’t know if I can.” He admits quietly. Shamefully. He really doesn’t _know_ if he can…and that’s what terrifies him.

“Can you tell me who hurt you?” What can he even say? The Joker hurt him, yes, but Bruce hurt him too. He thought he meant something to him, to them. Did they miss him? Did they mourn him? Talia had shown him the newspapers. Batman had a new Robin about six months after Jason’s death. That had broken Jason’s already crumbling heart. But Tim keeps telling him about how broken up Bruce was because Jason was gone and Dick sounded really upset the other night when Tim brought him up…

Jason shakes his head, curling into himself more, hugging his arms around his middle. Why is he acting like this? He shouldn’t be losing control of his emotions like this just because Dick is being his compassionate, understanding self. These responses should have been trained out of him. He thought they had been.

Dick releases a sigh, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “Did…did someone close to you…hurt you?” His voice is tentative, probing, but also gentle and reassuring at the same time.

Another sob rips through Jason, his whole body rocking with the force of it. Why the _fuck_ is he crying? Why can’t he stop?

“Was it—” Dick pauses, lip between his teeth. He looks nervous, like he doesn’t want to finish his question. Dick composes himself and stares intently at Jason. “Was it your father?”

The words slam into him. He chokes on them. It feels like the weight of a building has just fallen onto his chest, crushing him, trapping him. Was it his father? Well, kind of. Willis used to beat the shit out of him when he tried to stand up for his mom or if he ever talked back or even if his dad just had too much to drink. But that was a long time ago. He doesn’t know if anyone in his new family knew about that part of his old life. But then he found himself a new dad, a better one. One who gave him piggyback rides and took him to baseball games and grabbed ice cream sundaes with him after a quiet night on patrol and let him eat a cookie before dinner despite Alfred’s insistence that he wait until _after_ so he wouldn’t spoil his appetite and who read to him when he had a bad night… That’s what makes the hurt so much worse. Because he knows what he’s missing now. He knows what it’s like to be cared for, to have people in his corner.

He has no words. But Dick must take his silence as an answer.

“I’m so sorry. No one should have to go through that.” Dick tells him, mouth turned down in a frown.

“He’s—he’s not,” Jason’s voice cracks. It feels like he’s falling apart at the seams. “Yes, but no.” He can’t seem to put words together to make sense. “He’s not the one…I was talking about…earlier.”

Dick looks at him, confused. “I—don’t understand.”

“The Joker.” The name slips past Jason’s numb lips.

Dick’s eyes widen behind his mask. “The Joker?”

“He hurt me.”

Dick now has both shoulders in his grasp. “The _Joker_ hurt you?”

All Jason can do is nod. Jason can still picture it, even now. As vivid as the day it happened. The flash of a crowbar heading right for him, the sound of sickening laughter ringing in his ears, the feeling of bones snapping, the smell of cigarette smoke filling the air as his birth mother stands there and _watches_.

“Is that why you chose Red Hood?” Dick asks.

“I—I thought if…” Jason has to gulp back a sob, “if I stole something from him it…” Jason trails off. He was hoping that by using the Red Hood moniker he could _take_ something from the Joker, like the bastard had taken from him.

Dick is gripping Jason’s upper arms tightly, a look of horror on his face. “What did he do to you?”

“He…So much…I…” How could he even begin to describe what the Joker had done to him? What he had taken from him? He _broke_ Jason. Shattered him into pieces. There are parts of Jason that he can and never will get back because of what that monster did to him. He’s just so goddamn lost. His end goal is in sight, it’s so close… But what happens after? All Jason has focused on for so fucking long has been his vengeance. But once he has it, he has no idea what to do. Maybe Talia will take him back…

“I’m sorry.” There is such _pain_ in Dick’s voice “The Joker’s hurt me too.”

Jason’s head snaps up at that. What does that mean?

“He took my little brother away from me.” Dick admits quietly. Tears slowly slip past his mask and trail down towards his chin.

“I’m sorry.” And Jason is. He’s so fucking sorry.

Dick’s lip twitches up slightly at that. “Wasn’t your fault.” But it was his fault. _Is_ his fault. He’s the reason Dick doesn’t have his little brother anymore.

“Robin calls me Jason.” He says, carefully. He’ll have to approach this with caution. He doesn’t want Dick to figure out the truth. It would hurt him too much. Dick thinks his little brother is at peace. It will break his goddamn bleeding heart when he finds out it’s Jason who’s done all these horrible things.

Dick looks up at him, a soft smile on his face. “That was his name. My little brother.”

“I’m sorry.” He says again. For leaving, for dying, for coming back wrong.

“I don’t know why Robin said that. Maybe you just have a similar face under that helmet of yours.” Dick jokes half-heartedly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

A snort of laughter leaves Dick, as he wipes the wetness from his cheeks. “I can’t believe I was trying to kick your ass earlier. And now we’re having a heart-to-heart.”

“I can’t believe it either.” A hint of a smile creeps unto Jason’s face.

Dick takes a couple steps back from him. “God, I haven’t cried like that in a while.”

“Me neither.” Jason replies, his arms loosening their choking hold on his midsection.

Dick looks back at him. The blood on his face has dried and is flaking off. “I have another question for you though.” Dick gives him a considering look, “You’ve mostly been targeting Black Mask. Why him?”

“He has a part to play.” Jason replies vaguely.

“So, you’re planning something?” Dick crosses his arms, posture still relaxed but there’s also an edge to it now.

“It’s not something you want to be involved in. It’s just like I told Robin. Stay out of it.” Jason lets his arms drop from their protective hold and stands up straighter.

“And you just expect me to stay out of this because…?” Frustration tinges Dick’s tone.

“Because it’s between me and the ones who hurt me.” Jason tells him.

“You mean the Joker?” It’s not really a question. Jason nods anyways.

“ _And_ your father?” Jason nods again.

“Was your dad working with the Joker?” Worry is evident on Dick’s face.

“No.” Is Jason’s clipped reply.

“What did your dad do then?” Dick asks pointedly.

“He—" Jason has to look away again. “He let…” Can he even get the words to come out? “He let the Joker live.” The words are barely more than a whisper.

“That’s how your dad hurt you?” Dick sounds confused.

Jason glares at his older brother. “You don’t _get_ it. The Joker took _everything_ from me.”

“What does that even mean?” Dick throws his hands up in exasperation.

“All Joker does is take and take and take.” Jason spits the words out, his anger creeping back up inside of him. “And the man I thought was my dad? He keeps letting him take and take and _take_.” It hurts so much knowing that Bruce didn’t stop Joker from hurting anyone else. Jason was his son! Shouldn’t that have meant something? Shouldn’t that have been cause enough to rid the world of the fucker?

Jason pauses. Pulls back into himself. He has to save this anger, this all-consuming rage, for the big finale. He can’t lose sight of his goal. He’s so close to the end. And once he knows his answer? He can just disappear. Bruce will never see him again. He will just be left with the knowledge that Jason is alive. A constant reminder.

Jason can feel Dick’s narrow gaze on him. He’s giving too much away. He can’t have Dick involved. Not for what he has planned.

Jason spends a moment just watching Dick, trying to memorize his face, because he’ll probably never see his big brother ever again. Not after what he’s going to do to their family. “I’m sorry.” He mutters, a sense of sadness coming over him.

“What?”

Jason rushes him, pinning him down on the roof. “Don’t follow me, Dick.” He says, right next to Dick’s ear. He can feel Dick tensing underneath him. He lets him go, jogging over to the edge of the rooftop. He looks down and sees a maze of streets waiting for him to disappear into. He looks back at Dick to see him push himself up into a kneeling position.

“Who are you?” They anger is leaking back into Dick’s voice.

“You gotta let your Little Wing go, Dickie.” His eyes are misty, his heart is breaking.

“No.” One word filled with such horror. Dick’s getting back to his feet.

Within the next beat of his heart and the next, he steps over the edge, letting the shadows of Gotham enfold him, hide him.

“JASON!” He hears Dick scream, feet pounding against the pavement. “JASON, PLEASE!” Jason can hear Dick’s heaving sobs as he disappears into the night.

“Please, come back!” A plea. One he wishes he could answer. But he’s already gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> So, this chapter draws inspiration from that one scene in the "Under the Red Hood" movie. Some dialogue and descriptions will be drawing from that. And Bruce gets to play a bigger role this chapter, so look forward to that. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much four your continued support, it means so much to me! Enjoy!

It’s almost over. He’s so close to finishing everything he’s started. The moment to end it all. His salvation or his final damnation. The clock has wound down. This is it. This is when he’ll finally get his long-awaited answer. His last stand, happening right here in this dilapidated apartment, with its peeling wallpaper and suspicious stains, the air thick with the smell of rot. Back to the beginning. Back to _their_ beginning.

He remembers it like it was yesterday. He’d just run from Batman after trying to steal the tires off of the goddamn Batmobile. He was able to hit the Bat with his tire iron and made a break for it. He’d run and run all the way to where he was currently squatting. It was actually a place a lot like this one. He had no idea what Batman would do to him, but what he did know was that the Bat didn’t tolerate stealing. He’d heard his dad talk about how Batman would dangle thieves off the edge of roofs or punch their teeth in. He didn’t want that to happen to him and he was hoping the Bat wouldn’t come for him. He’d left the tires behind after all. Batman had found him, of course. Not really a surprise. Jason had been terrified, tears in his eyes. But all Bruce had done was offer him a hand and a chance at a new life. Jason had taken that chance. That one moment changed everything. And now here’s another moment that will change it all again.

“Ah, you’re back! I was starting to think you forgot about little, old me.” Jason’s eye twitches. He’s not going to waste his breath on this _filth_.

“Oh, the silent treatment. You wound me, Hoodsie!” Joker chuckles darkly, lips stained with his own blood. His smile pulls unnaturally at his mouth. Grotesque and unsettling. It makes Jason want to put a bullet in the clown right here and now. End the nightmare he’s been stuck in for so fucking long...but he won’t. He’s already waited this long, he can wait a little bit longer.

Jason’s heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He feels like the slightest nudge might send him over the edge. His fingers twitch at his sides, anxiety building up inside of him. He’s planned out all his moves, but he can’t control everything. He can’t know what Bruce will do. What if he doesn’t show up? What if he doesn’t choose Jason?

The sound of a cape fluttering behind him snags his attention. The wood creaks under the Bat as he stands to his full height. Finally. Jason draws one of his guns and points it right at Batman’s chest, hand steady. The man doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Glad you decided to show up.” Jason remarks mockingly.

Jason had decided that standing on a rooftop waiting to get the Bat’s attention was the best option. Red Hood had managed to grab the Joker, so Batman would _have to_ come to him. Lure Bruce in, get him right where he wants him, and then strike. A tactic he learned on the streets before he ever even met Batman. This is Jason’s city; he was born right in her bleeding heart. Bruce will be the one following _him_ into the dark. Right as Bruce swung onto a neighboring rooftop, Jason bolted. Bruce had tried to call out to him. Calling out his name. Not Red Hood, not even Robin… just Jason. Looks like the birds told Bruce about him after all.

Now they’re finally mask to cowl. It’s a little surreal if he’s being honest. Bruce seems as unfazed as he usually does in costume, the bastard. Compared to Jason, Batman is a fucking statue. Jason knows he’s giving too much away. Every little twitch, every labored breath…

God, Jason hasn’t been this close to Bruce in years. He’s just silently observed him from afar, never daring to go near him, afraid of what would happen if he did. But now Jason’s ready to face him, even if he _is_ falling apart inside. For the first time in three years, he’s ready to face his father.

Batman stares unwaveringly at him. The cowl gives away nothing. His eyes are hidden behind white-out lenses, his mouth is turned down in a frown, his body is still. He’s waiting. For what? Jason has no idea.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” Too goddamn long. This should have been over before he was brought back to life. Maybe then Jason could have come home.

Bruce’s eyes bore into him, analyzing him, assessing him. It’s an all too familiar feeling.

“What? You got nothing to say to me, old man?” Jason sneers, bubbling green buzzes under his skin.

“Jason.” His name is said so softly, Jason almost misses it. “You’re alive.” Bruce sounds…choked up. But that can’t be right. Batman doesn’t _get_ choked up.

“Been alive for a while.” Jason states sharply.

“How?” Bruce takes a step forward. Jason’s finger goes to the trigger. Bruce stops in his tracks, arms rising in front of him, palms facing forward, towards Jason.

“Don’t really know. Don’t really care either.” He may never find out how he came back. The whole time he was with Talia, they could never figure it out. So, what chance does Jason have?

“Ooh, hoo, hoo!” Joker crows from where he’s tied to a kitchen chair. “Boy, is this an unexpected turn of events!”

“Shut it!” Jason snarls,

“Boy Blunder number two back from the dead.” Jason can feel Joker’s eyes on him. “You know, it’s rude to ruin someone else’s punchline. My greatest work…”

“Shut. Up.” Jason’s seething, his blood is boiling. He glares down at the Joker. An all-consuming hatred burns inside of him. “You don’t get to speak. This is between me and _him_.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” Joker pouts, but then perks up again. “The bridie version of you, however... Now _he_ was a _lot_ of fun.” Joker’s malicious grin is back. Maniacal giggles start to pour out.

Jason grabs a fistful of the Joker’s hair and points his gun down towards his lap. “I would be quiet if I were you.” Jason hisses. “Otherwise, I’ll put a couple bullets in some not so fun places.”

“Fine. I’ll let you have it out with _Daddy_.” Joker still has a grin on his face. It makes Jason sick to look at. He releases his grip on Joker’s green locks, shoving his head forward as he does so.

He turns his glare back onto Bruce, gun returning to its original position, sights set on the bat on Bruce’s chest. He’s taken another couple steps forward while Jason was distracted.

“Don’t fucking move.” He warns, tone uncompromising.

Bruce opens his mouth to say something.

“Don’t.” Jason’s teeth are clenched, the muscles in his arms and back are tense. He feels like a frayed rope ready to snap.

“Jason, I’m sorry.” Bruce’s voice sounds strained, like he’s in pain. “I’m so sorry. For not saving you. For not _protecting_ you.”

Jason just stares at him. That’s what he thinks this is about? “Bruce. I forgave you a long time ago for not saving me.” Jason admits, tone even and steady. “But why—why on God’s green earth is _he_ still alive?” Jason’s voice is filled with all the pain and hurting that he’s buried deep inside himself.

“Jas…” Bruce tries to take another step forward.

“No. You’re going to listen to _me_.” Jason sucks in deep breaths, trying to not let all that _rage_ overtake him. “Ignoring what this piece of shit has done in the past. Everyone he’s hurt. You still do _nothing_. He took me away from you.” Jason can feel the tears prickling in his eyes, but he holds them back. He can’t lose it now. “If he had taken you from this world? I wouldn’t have ever stopped searching for him until I put a bullet between his eyes.”

“Sweetheart…” Bruce whispers, sounding utterly wrecked.

“ _No_. You don’t get to call me that!” The dam breaks. Tears spill over, slipping down past the domino mask and towards his now trembling chin.

Bruce takes another step.

“Stop!” Jason croaks, tightening his grip on the gun facing Bruce. “It’s time you made a choice.” He pulls out his other pistol and tosses it to Bruce. Bruce catches it, cradling it in two hands like it’s a foreign object that he’s never seen before. “Me…or him.” Jason pivots, placing the muzzle of the gun against the Joker’s temple.

“Jason.” Bruce sounds so broken. But he wasn’t. Not from what Jason has seen. He let Jason’s killer live, he let another kid be Robin, he replaced him, he…

“You’re going to have to choose. You shoot him and we’ll both walk out of here. Or…or you’ll have to shoot me to save _him_.” Jason tries to make his voice steady. It probably doesn’t work as well as he hopes it does. He decides to make the point even clearer. He places his finger on the trigger. “Choose…and this will all be over.”

Bruce looks down at the gun in his hands. He stares at it for a brief moment before he tosses it away, not sparing it a second glance. Jason inhales sharply. “No. I won’t…I can’t.” Bruce says firmly. 

No _._ No no no! It can’t end like this! “It’s me or him, Bruce.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do this. Just come home.” Bruce raises a hand, offering it out to Jason.

“I can’t. I can’t come home.” Jason says brokenly.

“Well, isn’t this a touching scene.” Joker’s voice feels like acid is being poured over Jason’s skin.

“You…you have to…choose.” He’s falling apart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. His ribs feel like they’re squeezing his lungs, pushing all the air out, so Jason is left with nothing.

“No, Jason. Please. Just put the gun down.” Bruce is even closer now.

He can feel his lips trembling, tears keep slipping past his mask. “I’m so tired. I just want it to be over.” He sounds broken, lifeless, spent.

“No, baby. You don’t have to do this. We can fix this.” Bruce pleads, both hands reaching towards Jason.

“Stop.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to confront Bruce, come at him with all of his fury. But he can’t. It’s all gone. There’s nothing left. He’s empty.

He notices movement in his peripheral. He stares over Bruce’s shoulder as two figures climb in through the window. They’re both in costume. Jason’s breath catches at the sight of them. Bruce straightens up, but his gaze never leaves Jason.

“Jay.” Dick says, voice cracking.

Tim has a small, sad smile on his face.

“Oooh! The whole family’s here! How delightful!” Joker crows. “Ha ha ha ha ha! Truly, a _Bat_ -family reunion!”

Dick scowls and moves over to stand on the other side of Joker. “Enough of you.” He produces a syringe from—somewhere. It must be a sedative because as soon as Dick pulls the needle out, the Joker falls unconscious.

“Hi, Little Wing.” Dick smiles at him. It’s small and a little wobbly but still there.

Jason backs away from the Joker, gun raised in front of him, warning off any of them from approaching him. Tim moves and stands right beside Bruce, on his left. He looks up to his mentor, searching for something. Bruce just puts a hand on his shoulder. A gesture all Robins, past and present, are familiar with. Tim returns his gaze to Jason. Dick takes up the space on the other side of Bruce.

Jason feels like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at any sudden movement.

It’s over. Everything he’s been working towards has just fallen apart right in front of his eyes. And he can’t gain back control of the situation either. Not with both Nightwing and Robin here. He can’t keep all of them from stopping him. They weren’t supposed to _be_ here.

“Jason.” Bruce pulls the cowl off. Jason sucks in a breath. This is Bruce. This is his dad. Not Brucie, not Batman, just _Bruce_. The man who took him in, who raised him, who gave him the support he’d so desperately needed. There are tears in Bruce’s eyes. Jason’s hand shakes. Bruce looks wrecked.

“Jay.” It’s Tim this time. Jason swings his gaze over to him. “Come home.” He takes a couple hesitant steps towards Jason. “Please.” The word is said so softly Jason almost misses it.

“I—I can’t.” He has to force the words past the tightness in his throat.

“You can.” Dick takes a single step forward.

Jason just shakes his head. They know who he is, what he’s done. They can’t accept him back just like that. He broke Bruce’s rule. Over and over again. None of them can ignore that. None of them _should_ ignore that.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me? Please?” Bruce’s voice is soft, just like it was when he was convincing Jason to come with him all those years ago, in the place just like this one.

Jason shakes his head again. He can’t look at Bruce. It will break him more than he already has been. He’s been shattered to pieces, and he’s just left here trying to gather as many of the remains as he can. It’s not really working.

Tim takes that as his sign to enter into Jason’s space. He reaches out cautiously and circles his arms around Jason, hugging him, his head resting above Jason’s pounding heart. Jason lets out an anguished sob. He wraps one of his arms around Tim’s shoulders, pulling Tim closer.

But the arm holding the gun never wavers. That stays steadily trained on the Bat.

“Little Wing?” Dick inches forwards a bit. His mask is gone now too. He hasn’t seen Dick’s eyes in so long. Were they always this blue?

“I’m not your Little Wing, Dickie.” Jason admits quietly. That version of him died in that warehouse in Ethiopia, was carved open on an autopsy table, was left to rot in a coffin in Gotham Cemetery.

“Jason. I just…” Dick takes a moment to breathe deeply, centering himself. “I missed you so much.” His voice sounds watery. It sounds like he’s trying his best not to cry.

“I’m not that Jason, Dick.” Jason snaps. He can feel Tim tensing against him. “He died a long time ago.”

“Jaylad. You’re _alive._ You came _back_. That’s all that matters.” How can Bruce say that? He can’t accept Jason back just like that. That would mean the last three years of his life he could have been home, with his family, instead of being beaten in the fighting rings in the League or honing his body into the perfect weapon to destroy the Bat.

“You never said how you came back.” Tim’s voice draws his focus. His eyes drop to look at Tim’s still masked face.

“It’s not pretty, baby bird.” Living it was bad enough. He’s never had to tell that story before. He doesn’t know what saying those words would do to him.

“We can handle it.” Tim insists.

Bruce releases a long, slow breath. “Tim. Jason doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to.”

“But—”

“He’ll tell us in his own time.” Which just…what the fuck? Tell them in his own time? Like he’s going to stick around and have more heart-to-hearts with them…

Jason scowls.

“I’ll be having a talk with Talia though.” Jason looks up at Bruce in surprise. His mouth drops open ready to ask how he knew. “I recognized the League training.” Bruce explains.

“The Lazarus Pit, of course.” Dick sounds like he just discovered the secret to the universe.

“But it can’t bring people back from the dead. Can it?” Tim questions, still wrapped around Jason, but his gaze locks onto Bruce.

Bruce huffs. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”

“The Pit didn’t bring me back to life.” Jason tells them. He doesn’t know if he can admit the ugly truth of his actual return. The nightmare from the other night still feels like a raw, weeping wound.

“Was the Pit involved?” Tim asks, arms tightening around Jason, face smushing against his chest plate. Jason knows Tim’s trying to reassure him. It’s only slightly working.

“Yes. It was.” His voice is soft, shaky.

“But it’s not what brought you back?” Dick takes another step towards Jason.

“No.”

Dick tilts his head. “Do you know what did?”

Jason’s arm tightens over Tim’s shoulders. “No. I don’t.”

“Are you still mad?” Tim asks. The question sounds like it should be coming from a much younger kid.

“Yeah, Tim. I am.” The boiling rage is gone but he’s still so _angry_. Angry at the Joker, at Bruce, at Talia, at the world…at himself.

“You have every right to be upset, sweetheart.” Bruce says, giving Jason a reassuring look. “You can be mad for as long as you need to be.”

“But I’m mad at you.” Bruce can’t just let this go. Why isn’t he yelling or being remotely disappointed? Why’s he trying to reassure Jason? Why is he telling Jason it’s okay for him to be angry? Has he forgotten what Jason’s done? What he was going to do?

“That’s okay.” Bruce gives him a small, pained smile.

“It’s not okay!” Jason snaps, tears still trailing steadily down his cheeks.

“You can be mad at me, sweetheart. For as long as you need to be. But please, don’t push us away. We want to help you.” Bruce finally takes a step forward, even with Jason’s gun on him.

“I—you—you can’t. You don’t want me back. I came back…” He sucks in an unsteady breath. “I came back _wrong_.” He forces the words out.

“No, Jay. You didn’t come back wrong.” Dick says, pain shining in his eyes.

“I did!” Jason insists. But the words sound weak even to his own ears.

Tim pulls back a little bit, so he can look up into Jason’s face. “You’re not _wrong_. You’re Robin. And Robin is magic.”

That breaks Jason. The sobs pour out of him, unrelenting in their ferocity. His whole body convulses with the force of them. He finally lowers his arm, the gun slipping from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor. He wraps both of his arms around Tim, holding him tightly, and buries his face in his hair. And he cries. Cries out his pain, his misery, his longing…Everything that he’s tried to keep buried, bubbling to the surface and spilling out. He can feel Dick stepping up next to them. He circles his arms around them both, his hand running up and down Jason’s quivering back. He kisses Jason’s temple. It’s the most affectionate gesture he’s received since the early days with Talia. He savors it. He savors the feeling of having his brothers by him, lending him some of their strength.

He can sense Bruce’s approach. His presence is larger than life. Powerful. Overwhelming. Jason tenses, then shoves his brothers away from him. No. He can’t let himself fall into this. He’s too broken. He retreats back away from them, from his family.

“I can’t be what you want me to be.”

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back!
> 
> Another chapter done and ready for your enjoyment! It is a much longer chapter this time with a long overdue conversation between Bruce and Jason, so look forward to that :) I also want to thank everyone again for reading and enjoying this! It means a lot! Also, tissues might be appropriate for this chapter haha

He’s in one of his safehouses now. He’s safe. He’s fine. Everything’s _fine_ …

Oh, who is he kidding. He’s nowhere near fine. He’s the farthest thing from _fine_. He’s falling apart, crumbling to pieces. He’d gotten so far, right to the last step of his plan...but then it all collapsed down around him, like a house of cards, leaving him spiraling…alone. He has no purpose now, no goal to keep him going, keep him fighting. Can he even still be Red Hood?

He’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He knew Bruce would never be able to do what he was asking him to do, otherwise he would have already done it. Bruce would have killed the Joker a long time ago. Jason doesn’t know why he expected this confrontation to provide a different outcome. Of course, Bruce would refuse. And—oh God—he was going to make Bruce use a gun. Bruce hates guns. A gun killed his parents. And Jason wanted him to kill someone else with one. That—that’s just wrong. He knows that about Bruce… He was going to do it anyways…What a fucking _idiot_.

Jason curls into himself more, back against the wall in the empty living room, the carpet coarse under his bare feet. The only source of light in the room is the streetlamps illuminating a small patch of the carpet through the grimy window. Jason buries his face in his sweatpant clad knees. He shivers, the room cold and desolate. Just like him. His thin T-shirt isn’t protecting him from much either. His head spins. Up is down and left is the Grand fucking Canyon. His whole world has been turned upside down, his protective barriers shattered. He doesn’t know where to go from here. He can’t go back to Talia. She won’t accept back a failure like him. He can’t bear to face her disappointment. And he can’t go to Bruce either. Despite what Bruce might have said earlier tonight, it isn’t true. It can’t be true. Bruce wouldn’t just let a murderer into his home. Let him be around Alfred or his kids—And yes, Tim is one of Bruce’s kids, despite what Tim might think. Jason’s seen the way Bruce looks at him—But Jason’s dangerous, unstable, one step away from being another one of the Bats’ Rogues. Having him in the Manor is just asking for trouble.

He was so close though. So close to just falling into his family’s arms, letting them take some of this weight, letting them take him home. Alfred would have made him a cup of tea, given him his patented grandfatherly smile, and held one of Jason’s hands in his worn, but gentle ones… But that can’t happen. Jason would rather live his life away from them, then to someday be thrown out when they finally realize he’s _too much_. Too much trouble, too much work, too much of a liability. It’s better this way. For him…for them.

A cry gets stuck in his throat. He feels like he’s drowning. A whole ocean is pressing down on him. He’s so far from the surface and he just…keeps…sinking. Farther and farther into the depths.

His knees are damp from all his tears. He’s cried more in the past few days, past few hours than he has in literal years. Every little thing that he’s felt for the past three years is now pouring out, spilling over, dripping down his face, climbing up from a place deep, deep inside. It’s a release that has been trying to claw its way out of him for ages.

Jason hugs his knees closer to himself. He misses Tim’s steady presence. His unwavering belief that Jason is worthy, that he had mattered—matters. He misses Dick’s warmth. His arms a protective circle around him, the ease of his affections. He misses Alfred. His knowing eyes seeing everything Jason thought he could hide, a comforting hand guiding him. He misses Babs, the big sister he didn’t want but ended up needing. He misses Bruce. He misses his dad. His dad was so close to him, about to hold him in his arms. But Jason couldn’t do it. It had been too much. It would have made it too real. It would have proven to Jason that all the things he built up in his head weren’t real, were never real. That he’d pushed and pushed and pushed, wanting to see Bruce snap. For Bruce to prove his love for Jason by killing the monster that had taken him away from his life, from his family…

It turns out he didn’t have to do any of that. That he would be accepted back home like it was nothing at all. Even now after everything he’s done, they still want him to come home. And he wants that. He does. But he’s scared. So fucking scared. He hasn’t allowed himself to want that for so long that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t know how to be a part of the family anymore. Things have changed a lot since he was the one wearing the cape. _He’s_ changed too. Could it even work or is he just fooling himself?

There’s a dull throb pulsing at his temples. His face feels itchy from the drying tear tracks. He’s such a mess. Emotions are the worst. Why does he have to feel things? Can’t he just forget all the things that are hurting him even for just a little while?

Jason’s kind of regretting his choice to run away now. Would it have been that bad to allow himself the comfort Bruce was offering? That Dick and Tim were offering? To let them take him home? To be warm and safe and cared for? The thought makes him feel a lightness, but it also makes his skin crawl.

They can’t _really_ want him back. Maybe they were just trying to stop him from killing the Joker or shooting Bruce or maybe it was just the shock of seeing him alive again. But once they realize that Jason’s not worth it, that he’s too far gone, too far removed from the Jason they once knew, they’ll agree that they should all keep their distance from him. Keeping Jason at arm’s length or further. Yeah, that must be it. That’s what they must be discussing right now.

The sound of a window opening catches his attention. Jason draws his face away from his knees, staring at the hulking black figure haloed by the city lights. Jason blinks once, twice. The figure’s still there.

“Jason?” Bruce reaches up and pulls the cowl off.

Jason doesn’t say anything, he just stares up at Bruce, mind reeling. What the hell is he doing here?

“Can I come closer?” Bruce asks, while he’s pulling off his gauntlets, letting them drop to the floor.

Jason’s brows furrow. Why is Bruce asking him that? None of this is making sense.

Bruce takes careful steps towards him, before crouching down in front of Jason. Jason just sits there blinking at him. He’s still there every time his eyes open again. This is feeling a bit surreal. He hasn’t been this close to Bruce without the cowl since before he died. He notices all these little differences that weren’t there when he was a kid. Bruce now has some gray hair at his temples and there are a lot more wrinkles, especially around his mouth and eyes. He looks so much older than Jason remembers.

Bruce’s lips lift up in the semblance of a smile. “Hi, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. It’s the same timbre he uses when he’s trying to reassure scared kids.

“Bruce?”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Bruce starts reaching out a hand, telegraphing his movements clearly. He rests it carefully on Jason’s bare arm. Jason shivers at the contact. Bruce’s hand is so warm. His thumb begins stroking Jason’s skin soothingly. Jason stares at Bruce’s hand not quite believing his eyes. Bruce is being soft and comforting. He’s being careful with him, like one wrong move might shatter Jason like a porcelain doll.

“Why—why are you here?” Jason mumbles. The words feel heavy in his mouth.

“I’m here for you.” Bruce ducks his head trying to catch Jason’s eyes with his own. “You ran away before we could talk.”

Jason scoffs. “Talk? I did plenty of talking. You must not have been listening.” Frustration leaks into his tone.

Bruce sighs, but the motion of his thumb never stops. “I _was_ listening.”

“Then you’ll understand why I’m not exactly thrilled you’re here.” Jason snaps.

“Because I didn’t kill the Joker?” Bruce gives Jason a considering look. “Jason, you know why I can’t do that.”

Jason glares at him, baring his teeth. “You couldn’t have made an exception for _him_?!” Green tinges the corners of his vision.

“No, Jason.”

“He killed me, Bruce! He _murdered_ me!” He spits the words like fiery barbs right at Bruce. Bruce flinches, a pained expression twisting his features. “He took me away from you!”

Bruce’s eyes lock onto him. “You don’t think I know that?” His voice is low, with an undercurrent of anger. Good. Jason can handle anger. “I carried your cold, dead body home. I had to catalogue everything the Joker did to you. I had to _bury_ you.”

“And yet you still didn’t care enough!” Jason seethes. “You buried me and moved on!”

Bruce looks downright murderous now. Jason reels back a bit in surprise. Bruce’s grip on his arm tightens.

“Moved on?” Bruce hisses. “You think I just _moved on_?”

“Yes.” Jason states adamantly.

“A part of me died with you! And I never got it back. I’ll never get it back.” Bruce says, voice cracking on the final word.

Jason looks at him confused. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m back now.”

Bruce’s eyes have softened ever so slightly. “You are. But I still lost you. You still died.”

“And you still didn’t avenge me.” Jason needles another time.

“Avenge you?” Bruce’s tone is incredulous. He pulls his hand away from Jason, running it through his sweat damp hair. Jason tries not to miss the contact.

“Jason,” Bruce pauses, “I can never be the one to give that to you.”

They sit for a moment in silence before Jason breaks it. “I know.”

“Why did you want me to do it?” Bruce asks. He reaches his hand out again and tentatively holds Jason’s own, cold one.

“I want him gone. But I—I can’t _do_ it.” He wishes he could be the one to end it. But he could barely stomach being around Joker earlier tonight. And the Joker is always in his head, his words echoing in Jason’s ears. He would have twisted Jason into even more of a mess, breaking him. Again.

“So, you wanted me to do it instead?” Bruce gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

“I thought…” He thought what? What did he _think_ would happen? “I wanted to hurt you.” Jason finally forces the words out. He wanted to hurt Bruce, to make Bruce suffer just like Jason’s had to suffer. A sadistic need to cause the man pain. He wanted him to snap. He wanted to _see_ Bruce’s pain. That’s also why he wanted to go after Robin. Yes, he wanted to scare the kid, but it was mainly about hurting Bruce. To show him that no Robin is safe.

He can’t bear to look at Bruce anymore, so he buries his face back into his knees. He rips his hand out of Bruce’s hold, his fingers curling into the fabric of his sweatpants. 

“I’m sorry you felt this need to lash out.” He can feel Bruce moving in closer to him.

Jason raises his head so he can glare at him. “Lash out? I’m not some kid taking his parents car for a joyride, Bruce _._ I _hated_ you. I _loathed_ you. For so long all I could think about was how I could hurt you, how I could destroy you, how I could ruin every single thing you had built. _That_. That is not just _lashing out_.” His hands curl into fists.

“Jason.” But the fire is still burning inside of him. Bruce thinks he knows what’s going on? He has no idea.

“You don’t know everything, Bruce! I’m not your little _sidekick_ anymore. So, save it.” Jason pushes himself up to standing. He’s ready for a fight.

Bruce stands too. They’re about the same height now. That fills Jason with just a bit of satisfaction.

“I know plenty, Jason. I know you’re hurting. I know you feel alone and abandoned. I know there’s this anger inside of you that you don’t know what to do with…” Bruce says with all the certainty of the man who’s called the ‘World’s Greatest Detective.’

“Fuck. You!” Tears well up in Jason’s eyes. “You come in here thinking you know me! But newsflash, you don’t! You never did!” The words drip like acid from his mouth. “I was just street trash! Always have been! You should have left me on the streets where you found me instead of sending me into the arms of my murderer!” His eyes widen. Did he really just say that?

Bruce stands there stock still. His emotions are hidden by his carefully crafted mask.

After a brief moment with just their breathing breaking up the silence, Bruce speaks. “Do you not think I blame myself every _goddamn_ day for getting you killed?” His voice is bitter and pained.

“I don’t care about your guilt complex!” Jason keeps digging himself a deeper and deeper hole. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get out of it.

Bruce breaths out slow and long, pinching the bridge of his nose—Looks like the Bat’s getting worked up too—Bruce looks back at him.

“Jason. I just want to understand.” Bruce takes a step towards him. “I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help!” Can’t Bruce get that through his thick skull?

“Baby, you need help. I’m worried you might…” Jason doesn’t let him finish.

With a cry of rage and anguish, Jason throws a punch. It strikes Bruce in the jaw, his head snapping to the side. Jason’s chest heaves, his hands tremble from both fear and adrenaline. Has he finally pushed Bruce enough?

Bruce’s gaze returns to him, his lip is split. He gingerly rubs a hand over the mark Jason had made. “I guess I deserved that.” He says oh-so nonchalantly.

Jason growls in frustration and lashes out again. This time Bruce stops the hit from landing. Jason takes a swing with his other fist. Bruce catches that one too. He tries to pull his hands free, but Bruce won’t let him go. He then tries slamming his foot down on Bruce’s instep, but he’s spun around while he’s off balance, so his back is now to Bruce’s chest. One hand holds onto both his wrists, the other arm wrapping securely around his waist. Jason struggles against him. “No! No!” His yells fall on deaf ears. Then he can feel Bruce sliding down the wall, so they are once again sitting on the shitty carpeting.

“Let me go!” Jason screams, trying in vain to pull away.

Bruce pulls him back against his chest and rests his forehead against Jason’s temple. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Bruce continues to whisper platitudes at him. Unfortunately for Jason, they are annoyingly soothing. 

Jason continues to put up a fight, but he’s exhausted. Soon his escape attempts dwindle down to nothing and he is left panting in Bruce’s arms. Jason feels lips press firmly against his temple. The hand restraining his wrists loosens, and the arm simply wraps around him. It feels like the hugs he remembers from all those years ago.

They both simply breathe together.

“Feeling better?” Bruce asks, drawing Jason even closer to himself.

“Mmm.” Is it a yes or a no? Even Jason doesn’t know the answer. Lethargy weighs heavy on his bones, sending him sinking further into Bruce’s embrace. Bruce’s chin rests on top of Jason’s head. It’s nice to just be held.

After a few more minutes, Jason pushes himself out of Bruce’s embrace and turns to face him. The bruise on his jaw is starting to darken. Jason brushes tentative fingers against the mark, eyes locked steadily on the hurt he caused.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.

Bruce sighs, sounding resigned. “You’re allowed to be angry.”

Jason winces. “But I hurt you.”

“I’ve had worse.” Bruce says, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Jason snorts at that. He forgot what a dumbass Bruce can be.

“Jay. I know we still have things to work out but I—I just want you to come home.” He really wants this. But Jason needs to protect his family. Even if it is from himself.

“Bruce. I’m the _Red Hood_.” Jason says, trying to emphasize the importance of what that means.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bruce says flippantly.

“But I…” The words die on his tongue. There’s so much to say and he has no idea where to start.

“I know what you’ve done as the Red Hood. I know you’re still angry at me for not avenging your…death.” Bruce chokes out the last word. He reaches up, pressing Jason’s hand to his face It’s further proof that Jason’s death _had_ affected him, that losing Jason _had_ hurt him. “I know you’re angry at me for giving Tim Robin. For letting him out on the streets. But there is one very important thing that you got wrong.” Jason looks up at that, meeting Bruce’s steady, unyielding gaze. “I did not _replace_ you, Jason. I could _never_ replace you. Tim is his own person and I love him for who _he_ is. You’re my _son_ , Jason. And when I lost you…I broke.” Tears start to spill over, carving marks down Bruce’s haggard cheeks.

Jason makes a sound in the back of his throat, a sound of protest.

Bruce continues on as if he hadn’t even heard Jason. “Every day there are reminders of you. And it hurts being reminded that you’re not there.” Bruce closes his eyes, pain carved into the lines of his face. “In my dreams I hold your lifeless body in my arms. Or I watch as the Joker…” Bruce doesn’t finish the thought. Jason’s grateful. “There are still days where I can barely function because I can’t stand the thought of looking around a corner and expecting you to be there and…you never are.” Bruce’s hand tightens around Jason’s own. “You have no idea how happy seeing you alive has made me.” He blinks his eyes back open, wetness clinging to his lashes. He tries to give Jason a smile but it’s weak and watery.

“Bruce…”

“I know you’re hurting. And I’ve caused a good deal of that, but I want you to know that I love you. That I have _always_ loved you. You don’t have to forgive me, but you shouldn’t push the others away because of mistakes I’ve made.”

Bruce loves him. His dad _loves_ him. This is what he’s been missing for so long. He thought he’d never have it again, but here Bruce is, offering Jason everything he has ever wanted. But he has to make sure. He needs to come clean. There can be no doubt. Bruce needs to know the extent of what Jason has done and was planning to do.

“Bruce. I need to tell you something.” Jason diverts his gaze, pulling his hand out from under Bruce’s and drawing it into his lap.

“Anything, Jaylad.”

“This is not going to be pretty. You’re probably not going to like what you hear, but I need to say it.” Jason admits quietly. He has to make sure Bruce understands what he’s getting into.

“Jay…” Bruce’s lips draw down into a frown.

“Let me finish.” Jason looks back at Bruce. “I’ve done horrible things, Bruce. I have so much blood on my hands. There are people I killed that I wish I didn’t. But the others? I don’t regret at all.” He pauses gauging Bruce’s reaction. Bruce sits there quietly, just observing him.

Jason switches gears. “Do you remember finding a bomb under the Batmobile a year or so ago?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow quizzically.

“That was me. I put it there.” The words taste like ash in his mouth. He was so close to killing Bruce. With just the push of a button, Batman, Bruce, his dad would have been gone. Poof. Just like that.

“Jason…” Bruce looks sad.

“That’s not even the worst thing.” Bruce looks at him in surprise. “I—I had a plan to…” Jason stops, sucking in a hash breath. He needs to get this out there. He needs to admit the truth. “I wanted to—to _hurt_ , Tim.” He stares down at the hands in his lap, shame washing over him in wave after wave. Jason swipes at his eyes, trying in vain to dash away his traitorous tears.

Jason is shocked from his stupor when a warm, calloused hand cups his cheek. He stares wide-eyed at the man in front of him. A thumb gently brushes away some of the tears. “But you _didn’t_. You protected him. You took care of him. Because you are a _good_ person—a good brother.”

“But…”

Bruce cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Those deaths will always be with you, but they also don’t have to define you. You can choose a different path, if that is what you want.”

“You’re going to accept me back? Just like that?” There’s been so much uncertainty in Jason’s, admittedly, short existence. All he’s asking for is a clear understanding of where the two of them stand with one another. Maybe then it will ease this aching in his chest.

“Always. I’ll _always_ want you, sweetheart.”

Jason stares deeply into Bruce’s eyes, searching, for what feels like hours, but must only be a minute. Without a second thought, he pushes himself up, flings himself forward, straight into his dad. His arms wrap around Bruce’s broad shoulders. The same shoulders that he once rode on after their first baseball game. He buries his face in the crook between Bruce’s neck and shoulder, just like he used to do when Bruce would carry him from the Manor library back to his room. Bruce wraps him up in his own arms. One of his hands cradles the back of Jason’s head, the other resting across his back, pulling him even closer. Bruce buries his nose in Jason’s hair. Bruce inhales long and slow and deep. Lips press onto the crown of his head and linger there. He can feel them trembling.

He hasn’t felt this safe in so goddamn long. Safe and cared for and _loved_. He’s still angry. It still buzzes right below the surface. He doesn’t know if that will ever lessen or go away. But what he does know is he’s going to do his best to hold onto what he’s got. He has his family back. His dad, his grandfather, his older brother, his big sister, and his new little brother. It’s going to be an uphill battle, but Jason is willing to give it his all. Because he’s someone’s son again.

“I’m coming home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify the bomb on the Batmobile thing, I believe it was shown in one of the Red Hood: The Lost Days comics. I could be wrong though. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Welcome everyone, new and old! So this chapter has more fluff but there is still a bit of angst thrown in there because I just can't help myself apparently. As always, thank you for your support! I appreciate it greatly! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

The drive in the Batmobile is silent. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable, just quiet. Jason tries his best to relax and calm himself down. Bit by bit, muscle by muscle, breath by breath.

Fuck, he’s exhausted. His limbs feel like they’re weighed down by lead. The last day alone has completely wrung him out; physically, mentally, emotionally. He’s trying not to let everything overwhelm him, crash over him like the unrelenting waves of the ocean. Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

He hasn’t been anywhere near the Cave or the Manor since before he died. He wonders how much it’s changed since then. Or if it hasn’t changed at all. And what about all of his old things? Did they box them up and store them somewhere? Did they just get rid of everything? Is it all still _there_? Jason doesn’t really know which he’d prefer honestly. All the options sound painful in their own ways.

And oh God, Alfred… He’s going to see Alfred again. He’s going to have to face him after everything he’s done. What if Alfred dismisses him? What if Alfred is mad at him for running away? What if he’s disappointed in Jason for not coming back? What if…?

And now he’s freaking out again.

“Jason?” Bruce sends a quick glance Jason’s way, but doesn’t otherwise take his focus off the road.

“I’m fine.” Jason mumbles. Guess Bruce noticed his change in demeanor. Great. Fan- _freaking_ -tastic.

Bruce sighs, but doesn’t say anything further. Jason stares intently at the hands curled in his lap, hoping just a little bit that his seat will swallow him up.

Before he knows it, they enter through one of the secret entrances to the Batcave. Winding through the underground tunnel is as familiar to him as grappling across rooftops had been. Tension starts to invade his body more and more. His shoulders slowly rise, his fingers clasp together tightly, his chest feels like a tight band is wrapped around it, making it harder to catch a deep breath. It aches. All of it is making him feel even more on edge than he had been when he first got in the car.

Another agonizing minute passes before Bruce is parking the Batmobile in its usual spot. The feeling of nostalgia hits Jason full force. He stares out through the windshield, looking around at what he can see of the Batcave. It all looks pretty much the same from where he’s sitting. He can see the Batcomputer terminal, the screens black, as well as the robotic T-Rex head in the opposite corner.

He’s really here. He’s really doing this.

Bruce clears his throat, drawing Jason’s focus. “We should probably head over. They’re waiting for you.”

Jason clenches his fists in the fabric at his knees. Is he ready for this? Can he really face them?

“Okay.”

He steps out of the car and instantly shivers. The familiar chill of the Cave is both welcoming and anxiety inducing. He just needs to do this, get it over with. One foot in front of the other. Again and again. He can do this, he can do this. He’s faced worse than this. Don’t be a _coward_. They still want him. He has to keep reminding himself of that. They _want_ him here.

As he makes his way into the Cave proper, he sees Alfred, Dick, and Tim standing together watching as the two of them approach. Dick and Tim are no longer in costume. Instead, they’re sporting oversized hoodies and sweatpants. Jason recognizes the hoodie Tim is wearing. It was one of Dick’s old ones with Gotham U emblazoned on the front. Jason remembers “borrowing” it himself at one point. The one Dick is wearing now seems to have once belonged to Bruce because the fabric is bunched up around his elbows, and the waist is to about mid-thigh on him.

And then there’s Alfred. He’s as proper and put together as he’s always been. Not a hair out of place, his attire immaculate. Jason inhales sharply at the sight of him. He stops moving. This was a mistake. What was he _thinking_?

A hand is placed between his shoulder blades—Bruce—His shoulders ease their tension slightly.

“You okay?” Bruce asks, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Jason doesn’t know what to say. Is he okay? Everything in his life recently has been kind of a clusterfuck, so maybe he doesn’t really know what okay means anymore.

Dick must think they’re taking too long because he decides to walk over to them. He’s smiling at Jason, warm and inviting.

“Hey, Jaybird. Glad you decided to join us.” Then his arms wrap themselves around Jason, holding on tightly, almost as if he’s afraid to let Jason go.

After another moment of hesitation, Jason returns the embrace. He rests his forehead on Dick’s shoulder, falling back into place as the “little” brother.

“You’re still a _dick_ , big bird.” Jason teases, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

He can feel Dick’s chuckle reverberate against him. “I see your sense of humor hasn’t changed.” Jason snorts.

“Missed you too.” He whispers only loud enough for Dick to hear, the sincerity in his tone clear.

Another minute or so passes with the two of them in their own little world before they finally separate. Jason turns to the side and quickly wipes away the wetness from his cheeks. When he feels a little less like a mess, he faces back towards the others. He takes a moment to just breathe, trying to calm his racing heart. He can’t put this off anymore. He has to face him. It’s time.

Before he knows it, Jason is standing in front of the man he considers to be his grandfather. Jason’s so much taller than Alfred, compared to the last time he saw him. Jason used to have to look up and up to see the warm, knowing eyes staring intently at him now.

“Sorry I missed dinner.” Jason could just slap himself. That’s what he goes with? _Really?_ Man, he really is a fucking idiot.

Alfred shakes his head, but does reach out a hand, resting it against Jason’s cheek. “You wonderfully, stupid boy.” Alfred has that smile that Jason knows all too well on his face. Alfred’s eyes are misty.

And that’s all it takes. He breaks. Cries pour out of him, his vision blurs, the tears are hot on his face.

“Come here, lad.” Alfred draws him into a hug, a hand resting firmly on the back of his head.

Jason melts. He doesn’t have to worry about anything else while he’s in Alfred’s arms. For now, it’s just the two of them. He’s safe. Alfred will take care of him like he always has.

“I missed you. So much.” Jason says, his fingers clutching at the back of Alfred’s jacket.

“As have I.” Alfred’s lips press softly against his temple.

“I’m sorry I stayed away for so long.” Jason’s voice is tinged with regret.

Alfred releases him from the embrace, but still has his hands resting on Jason’s shoulders. “You are here _now_. That is all that matters.”

It’s all Jason’s wanted to hear for so long. “Thanks, Alfie.” Jason manages to give the older man a watery smile.

“Always, my dear boy.”

Jason fully pulls away from Alfred so he can go say hi to their littlest bird. Tim is standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, twisting a lose thread around his fingers, lip between his teeth. Jason steps right in front of the kid. Tim stares up at him, wide, blue eyes scanning Jason’s face.

“Hey, baby bird.”

Tim doesn’t say anything, just throws himself at him. Jason doesn’t hesitate for a second, he just wraps his arms around his little brother…And he was planning on hurting this kid. This wonderfully, brilliant child. He’s so grateful that he didn’t, that he could be something else for Tim, instead of something to fear. Tim was the first one to find out about his return and right from the beginning he was trying to get Jason home. He’s a stubborn little shit, but Jason guesses that comes with the territory as a little brother. He should know, he’s one too.

“Thank you. For believing in me.” Jason murmurs into Tim’s unruly hair.

“I’m glad you’re finally home.” Tim mumbles back, face squished against Jason’s sternum.

“Me too, kid. Me too.”

“They missed you. A lot.” Tim whispers to him.

Jason’s arms tighten around his baby brother. “I’m starting to get that. Thanks to you.”

Tim snuggles closer, fingers twisting into the fabric of Jason’s T-shirt.

“Aww, you guys are so _cute_.” He hears Dick coo.

He releases Tim so he can shoot a scathing look at their older brother. “Shut it, you overgrown peacock.”

Dick gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “What? Is it a crime that I think my little brothers are cute? Oh, the inhumanity!” Dick throws his hand up, placing the back of it against his forehead in a femme-fatale type pose.

Tim is covering his mouth with one of his hands, trying his best to hide his wide smile, but he can’t keep back his giggles.

“Leave your brothers alone, chum.” Bruce scolds lightly, ruffling Dick’s hair as he passes him. Bruce starts walking over to the changing area.

“Et tu, Bruce?” Dick calls after him, a pout on his face.

Jason barely catches Bruce’s soft chuckle. Jason rolls his eyes at their antics.

Once Bruce disappears from sight, Jason throws his arm over Tim’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He’s still a bit overwhelmed with everything that’s happened tonight and is happening right now. It’s been a long day, long few weeks, long few years—But a life cut too short. God, he’s only like what? Eighteen years old? At least, he thinks he is. Is he seventeen? Maybe he’s actually nineteen—No. He doesn’t need to be thinking about that right now.

“We ain’t cute. Isn’t that right, baby bird?” Jason sends Tim a smirk.

“Well...” Tim trails off, a small, mischievous grin pulling at his lips.

Jason gasps. “I’m betrayed!” He flicks Tim’s nose in retaliation.

Tim pokes his side as revenge for the nose flicking.

When Jason looks back up, Bruce has returned from the changing area, sporting his normal sleepwear. It throws Jason for a loop. He hasn’t seen Bruce look so casual and relaxed in so long. It feels like a whole other life that this version of him isn’t really a part of. Not anymore at least.

“Jay?” Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Dick sounds concerned.

“What?” He says absentmindedly, his gaze flicking over to his older brother.

“You okay?” He takes a few steps closer to Jason, ready to offer comfort should Jason ask for it.

“Yeah. Why?” He’s fine. He’s fine. He really is fine. He just needs to keep _telling_ himself that.

“You kind of went off somewhere for a minute.” Dick explains.

“It has been a long night. I suggest we all head to bed and get some rest.” Alfred states firmly. Thank all the gods for Alfred Pennyworth.

“Good idea.” Bruce says, placing a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “Boys?”

“Yeah. We’re going.” Dick acquiesces. “Come on, Timmy.” He offers a hand out to their little brother.

Tim yawns. “Okay.” He shuffles over and takes the offered hand.

“You too, Jay.” Dick gestures with his head towards the stairs that lead up to the Manor.

The Manor. They want him to sleep there. _Oh shit_. Okay. Jason knew this was coming but it’s still a lot to process. Will they have him sleep in a guest room? Or will they be giving him his old room back? But what if they took all of his stuff _out_ of his old room? What if they _left_ everything? Why is _this_ what’s freaking him the fuck out? It’s just a goddamn _room_.

Jason takes a moment to breathe. In and out. In and out. He’s safe, he’s wanted, everything will be okay. He just needs to believe that.

“I’m coming.” He starts walking over towards his brothers, when out of the corner of his eye something catches his attention. It draws all of his focus. He stops walking completely to stare at the glass case in front of him. It sits in a place of prominence. This wasn’t here before he died. And he knows why it wasn’t. It’s not a pleasant realization.

He takes slow, cautious steps toward the case. His eyes never waver from where they are locked on to what lies within. His hands are shaking. Right in front of him is the Robin uniform. But not just any uniform—this one’s _his_.

He stares into the blank lenses of the mask. There are pieces missing from it, cracks in the material still present, burns distorting the shape. His breath catches.

He can still hear the sound of a crowbar meeting flesh. He can still feel the agony and despair of dragging himself to the door and finding it locked. He still knows what it’s like to feel utterly helpless and alone. He can still hear his birth mother’s shrieks as she begged for mercy. He can still feel the heat from the explosion, smoke filling his aching lungs. He still remembers laying there pleading to the universe, ‘Don’t let me die.’ It hadn’t listened. He still remembers wishing his dad was there with a comforting hand in his hair, his steady presence grounding Jason. God, what he would have given to be grounded by his dad instead of lying there as a mangled mess of a person. He remembers hearing a voice calling out his name, but he couldn’t say anything back, couldn’t call the voice to him. And then he’d just slipped away into nothingness. The next time he woke up, he was six feet underground.

“Jason? Jason, can you hear me?” The same voice is calling out to him again.

“You were there. You were _right_ _there._ ” Jason’s voice is thick with emotion. He doesn’t know how he got the words out.

He places a hand against the glass. It’s cool to the touch. He catches a glimpse of his reflection, the face of a man, not a boy, looking back. He also notices his eyes glowing faintly in the low light of the Cave, the white streak in his hair standing out prominently, and tears trailing steadily down his face.

“What?” Bruce sounds confused.

“I heard you. You were calling out my name.” Jason explains, not looking away from the emotionless eyes of the Robin mask.

“You heard me?” Bruce’s voice breaks on the words.

He can hear Tim suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh, heavens.” Alfred says under his breath.

“No.” Dick sounds heartbroken.

Bruce grabs his shoulders, pulling his attention away from the weighty stare of a dead Robin. Jason can’t meet Bruce’s eyes.

“You wouldn’t have made it in time.” Jason tells him matter-of-factly before Bruce can say anything. He knows deep in his gut that this is true. He was too far gone. Even if Bruce had found him while he was still breathing, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“No. I could have done _more._ ”

Jason finally looks up to meet Bruce’s gaze. “It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t. Bruce had tried. He’d been so close, but even when you try your hardest you don’t always succeed. Heroes die. Children die. And no matter how much Bruce wills it, he can’t save everyone. And that included Jason.

“You…” Bruce’s hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, his voice is strained.

“I made my choices, B. There are things in this world that even you can’t predict or control.” Jason doesn’t know how he sounds so calm right now. Shouldn’t he be having a breakdown right now?

“I am your _father_. It’s my _job_ to protect you.” Both of Bruce’s hands have migrated up to cup Jason’s face. Jason latches onto Bruce’s wrists, grounding the both of them.

“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to find my birth mother. And _she’s_ the one that sold me out to the Joker. The Joker’s the one who killed me.” When did he become the calm, rational one?

“It still never should have happened.” Bruce looks like he’s barely holding it together.

“No. It shouldn’t have. But it did.” Jason stares intently into Bruce’s eyes, willing him to hear his words, to feel the assurance Jason is trying to give him. “Now we have a second chance.”

Bruce’s mouth opens, but Jason doesn’t let him say anything. He doesn’t need to hear any what-ifs Bruce has been obsessively imagining for the past three years. “I never blamed you for not saving me. For not protecting me. You’re my _dad_ , Bruce. I never forgot that.”

He can see his dad shattering right in front of his eyes. Bruce pulls him into his arms, sobs wrack his body. Jason holds onto him just as tightly, burying his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck. “I love you, Dad.”

Bruce pushes him back just a little so he can plant a kiss against Jason’s forehead. “My boy. My beautiful boy.” Bruce mumbles against Jason’s skin.

A smile gingerly pulls at the corners of Jason’s mouth.

“I want in on this.” Dick demands, latching onto them.

“Of course, chum.” Bruce has a faint, barely there smile on his face now. He leans down and presses a kiss onto Dick’s cheek.

“You’re such a sap, B.” Dick groans but he’s beaming from ear to ear. Jason notices the redness in Dick’s eyes. Then Dick turns the full power of his grin on Jason. It makes him feel like everything will be okay.

But there is still a glaring absence that needs to be addressed. Jason quickly turns his head towards where Tim is standing. Jason can clearly see the longing on Tim’s face, but he hasn’t made a move towards them.

“You coming, baby bird?” Jason asks.

Tim points to himself, eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline in shock.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Yes, you. Who else would I be talking about?”

Tim still looks confused.

Jason sighs exasperatedly. “Get over here.” 

That seems to have worked well enough as Tim shuffles over to them. He still looks wary and uncertain. They’ll have to change that. Jason unwraps one of his arms from around Bruce, making a clear opening for where Tim can fit into their group hug. Tim stops walking at the edge of Jason’s outstretched arm. Jason sighs again, grabs a fistful of Tim’s hoodie, yanks him in, and bundles him close.

“There. Much better.” Jason declares, smug grin on his face.

One of Bruce’s arms releases its hold on Jason as well so that he can curl it around Tim. Jason can hear Tim’s quick inhale as Bruce pulls him in closer. They really need to give Tim some much needed TLC. He might have a father that’s still living—though it seems to Jason like he isn’t much of one—but they’re Tim’s family too. And Jason will be damned before he lets his little brother go around thinking he doesn’t deserve love and affection and time.

Tim stares up at them, his eyes shining with confusion and worry. Bruce must see the same thing because he ducks down kissing Tim’s nose pointedly. Tim’s mouth drops open at the gesture, his eyes going wide. Bruce just chuckles, drawing all of them in closer.

“My boys.” Bruce sounds so—happy. He’s looking at them all with such adoration.

“But…” Tim tries to protest.

“You’re part of the family, Tim. Yeah, your dad is also your family, but there’s no rules saying we can’t be a part of yours too.” Dick explains.

“Um, are you sure?” Tim blinks owlishly up at them.

“Of course, we’re sure.” Jason reassures vehemently. “Just accept it, short stack.”

“Not that short.” Tim grumbles to himself.

Bruce’s smile is much wider now.

They all spend another few moments savoring being so close to one another. But Jason is kind of getting a little sweaty, and Tim just yawned for like the fourth time and Dick’s blinks are getting slower. Finally, they separate, but they don’t stray too far from one another. Tim yawns again.

“My, my. I believe it’s someone’s bedtime.” Alfred chides gently, hand coming to rest on one of Tim’s shoulders.

“I don’t have a bedtime, Alfred. I’m not a baby.” Tim states petulantly, while rubbing his eye with a loose fist.

Without any warning, Bruce swoops down and scoops Tim up into his arms, propping him on one of his hips.

“Bruce!” Tim’s face is bright, bright red now, but he still dutifully curls his arms around Bruce’s neck.

Jason can’t help himself; he laughs.

“Alfred’s right. It’s time to get little birds to bed.” Bruce places a tender kiss against one of Tim’s still flaming cheeks. “And I mean _all_ little birds.” Bruce sends both him and Dick significant looks.

“Yeah, yeah we’re coming, Papa Bear.” Dick concedes. “Come on, Jaybird. Sleep awaits!” And he does a cartwheel away from Jason’s side. You can take the boy out of the circus and all that.

Alfred claps a hand on Jason’s shoulder, small smile gracing his features. “Carry on, lad.”

And Jason does. One foot in front of the other. Step by step, following in his family’s wake. They’re at the stairs now. Jason closes his eyes. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. When he opens them again, the others are giving him encouraging looks. One foot up and back down again. That’s one step down, many more to go. But he’s ready for them now. He’s home.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I finished! I'm really happy with how this story turned out. I did have a lot of Tim feelings while writing this chapter, but what can you do, you know? It's also much fluffier than my other chapters., so look forward to that. And I hope you enjoy the final installment!
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for your support and love for this fic! It has meant so much to me!

A couple weeks have passed since that night his world came crashing down around him. It took him a while, but he has now permanently moved back into the Manor. As of a few days ago at least. It was a difficult adjustment to make. On ‘Day Two’ of being back in the fold, he ran away. It had all been so overwhelming. He’d been on his own for so long, mostly just trying to survive or seek justice for himself and for others, that he’d forgotten what it was like for someone to  actually care about him and his wellbeing. It was too much to handle, so he’d snuck out while Batman and Nightwing were on patrol and grabbed one of the motorcycles from the civilian garage and driven it all the way back to one of his many safe houses in the city, not answering his phone anytime it would ring. Bruce had found him a few hours later. They’d talked, maybe even cried a little bit. Jason had eventually asked for some space and time to figure things out on his own and Bruce had said okay. No arguments or questions, just simple understanding and acceptance. Jason hadn’t exactly been expecting that, but he wasn’t about to tell Bruce that. He thought Bruce wouldn’t want to let him out of his sight. He doesn’t know how he feels about it. Maybe he never will.

It had been good for him, to be by himself for a little while. He really did need to consider what he was getting into and what that would mean for him. He’d been working towards one goal for years, so changing gears entirely was a lot to process. He’d eventually decided that he  _ did _ want __ to be with his family; to have breakfast with them in the morning, to help Tim with his English homework, to have prank wars with Dick, to cook with Alfred, and to just sit and read with his dad. It was not an easy transition by any stretch of the imagination. He still gets into fights with Bruce, Dick still says things that will set him off, and sometimes Tim accidently triggers something that will send him over the deep end, and he’d end up needing to leave for a few hours or even a day or two. 

His nerves, his fears, his doubts had lessened bit by bit during that time. And his family supported him through it all. They’d helped ease him back into a life where he isn’t constantly on the run, moving from place to place, never settling down long enough to just breathe. He also wants at least a part of his old life back even if it won’t be the same as it once was. Too much has happened since then.

He has easy days and hard days. Days where he can laugh and joke and bask in a feeling of peace with his family by his side. Other days he hides himself away, his memories weighing heavily on him, making every touch feel like a burn from a cigarette—It hurts like hell. He knows from experience—Sometimes on those bad days, Bruce would just sit by his bedside and read to him, just like he used to when Jason was little. It helped ease some of the pain in his heart.

T hankfully today is one of the easy ones. 

“ And what if I don’t want to watch The Princess Bride?” Tim  deman ds , pout firmly on his face, arms crossed  petulantly  across his chest. 

Dick gasps dramatically. “How could you  _ say _ that? My own brother!” 

“Well, maybe I just want to watch something else.”  Tim  shoots back .

“It’s a masterpiece!” Dick argues from his place on the floor by the shelf of movies .

Tim rolls his eyes. “Still no.”

“But…” Dick begins to say something, but Jason thinks it’s time to stop this before it devolves any further.

“I agree with Tim.”  Jason shoots his older brother a shit-eating grin.

“Not you too!” Dick cries out , throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

“Sucks to suck, big bird.” Jason says mockingly.

Tim gives him the ‘Really? That’s the best you could come up with’ look.  Jason picks up one of the throw pillows and promptly smacks Tim in the face with it. 

“ Jason!” Tim cries out shrilly.  When the pillow is removed from his face, he glares at Jason with a fire burning in his eyes. Retributio n i s coming. 

At that moment, Bruce walks in carrying a couple bowls of popcorn. Jason can see Tim’s small, mischievous smile before he hides it behind his big, puppy dog eyes and a trembling lip. Oh no. This is not good.

“ _ Bruce _ ,” Tim whines, “Jason hit me.” 

What a manipulative little shit. 

“Sweetheart ,” Bruce says in his disappointed dad voice. Yeah, Tim’s going to get it later . “ Don’t hit your brother.”

“But—” Jason tries to protest. 

“ No roughhousing on movie nights. You know the rules.” Bruce  rebukes . 

Jason blows out a frustrated breath, crossing his arms over his chest, and hunkers back down into the couch cushions. Little fucking brothers. With Bruce’s back to them, placing the popcorn on the coffee table, Tim sends Jason a knowing smirk. Jason sticks his tongue out at him in response. Jason sees Dick’s eye roll out of the corner of his eye.

Dick turns his attention on their father. “We still haven’t picked a movie because  _ someone _ ,” He then stares pointedly at Tim, “doesn’t want to watch The Princess Bride.”

Bruce takes the seat in the middle of the couch between Jason and Tim, his focus on Dick.

“Well, what are our other options?” Bruce asks diplomatically.

“Other options?” Dick sounds scandalized. 

“Why can’t we just watch one of the Star Wars movies?”  Can always count  on Tim, the sci-fi nerd. 

“Like you haven’t seen those a hundred times already.” Dick counters. 

“Well, you’ve probably seen The Princess Bride just as many times.” Tim argues back. 

“Boys…” Bruce draws the word out , the exasperation clear in his voice, but there’s amusement there to o.

Without giving it much thought, Jason blurts out, “How about Lilo and Stitch?” 

Tim and Dick stop bickering and stare at him. 

“I think that is a wonderful idea, Master Jason.” Alfred says as he enters the media room, carrying a tray of steaming cups of hot cocoa. 

“Thanks, Alf.” Jason smiles up at the man while eagerly accepting his beverage. The smell of chocolate and the slightest hint of peppermint fills his nose. It reminds him of days much like this one. Bruce and Dick would have somewhat settled their differences and they’d gather around and watch a movie together. He’d even seen Dick snuggle up with Bruce on more than one occasion even though a couple days prior they’d been having one of their many fights. 

A lot has changed since then, but he’s happy to be here now, in this moment. He hasn’t seen Dick or Bruce fight like they used to since  coming here. And now they have Tim added to the mix of bodies. Jason has a second chance at life, and he wants to spend it being happy and warm and safe and cared for. He’s tired of the heartache and the rage and the loneliness. He wants to spend time with his family, even if it is just watching a  children's movie together. 

“Lilo and Stitch?” Tim asks, sounding a little unsure. 

It takes a moment but then Dick stares wide-eyed at Tim, Jason’s just as confused, and Bruce has a sad look in his eyes, the corners of his mouth dipping slightly downward. 

“Wait. Have you never seen Lilo and Stitch? I thought everybody’s seen it.” Dick’s brows furrow.

“I just—never felt the need to?” Tim’s shoulders come up, rising towards his ears, his cheeks heating up in what appears to be embarrassment. 

Dick opens his mouth to say something, but Jason beats him to the punch. "Don't sweat it, Timmy.” Jason sends his little brother an encouraging smile. 

Tim looks over at him, shoulders lowering ever so slightly. “Dickhead, put the movie on.” Jason orders, turning to face their older brother. Tim’s snort is worth the coming reprimand. 

“Master Jason.” Alfred scolds, sending him a pointed look. 

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles, even though he’s  really not . His brother deserves it.  He chose to keep going by  _ Dick _ after all. And it’s Jason’s job as a little brother to tease him  mercilessly for it. 

“Fine. We can watch Lilo and Stitch.” Dick grabs the case from off the shelf and slides the disk into the DVD player, then he reaches for the remote to start the movie. The opening scene begins to play, and Jason relaxes further back into his seat, his shoulder brushing against Bruce’s as he sinks into the cushion. A hand is placed on his knee and it gives a gentle squeeze. He looks over and sees Bruce with a small smile on his face. Jason smiles back. 

“Scootch.” Dick ’s voice breaks their little staring match. 

They both watch as Dick, with a bowl of popcorn in hand, plants himself between the arm rest and Tim. Bruce  slides a little closer to Jason to help make room. Jason’s eyes dart over to the other side of the couch where he sees an uncomfortable looking Tim being squeezed between Bruce’s hulking mass and Dick’s crossed legs. Bruce and his dad instincts don’t even have to look at Tim before he’s pulling him up and into his lap. Jason can see Tim tense up, can hear his breath catch. What the fuck had Tim’s parents done to him where something so simple is seen as out of the ordinary? Bruce’s arm cradles Tim to him, holding him against his broad chest. Tim looks so small in Bruce’s obnoxiously large arms.

“Comfy, sweetheart?” B ruce asks after pressi ng  a quick peck against Tim’s forehead. 

“Y—yeah.” Tim answers , still recovering from the shock . He  star es up at Bruce in awe. 

Jason’s probably going to punch Jack Drake in the face one of these days. Tim would probably be the only one to try to stop him. But Jason also doesn’t doubt that one of the others would distract Tim for him if he asked. The fucker deserves it. Probably deserves worse than a punch in the face, but Jason’s not the one to provide that kind of punishment anymore. Jason hasn’t seen a kid so unaccustomed to affection since his time on the streets. He thought most wealthy parents would be more like Bruce, but he’d been so wrong. Tim is the living, breathing proof of his incorrect assumption. 

One of Bruce’s arms releases its hold around Tim, rising and settling around Jason’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He isn’t used to the weight of Bruce’s arm around his shoulders anymore. Bruce used to do it all the time back before he died, but now so much has happened between them—And Jason is the same height as the man, which might have something to do with it too—It’s nice; makes him feel like a little kid again. Jason snuggles in, head resting against his dad’s shoulder, warmth radiating off the man, making Jason relax further into his hold. 

Bruce dips his head towards Jason and whispers, “I love you.” 

“Love you too, old man.” He whispers back, his lips  twitching upwards , contentment filling him up inside. 

“I love you too.” Dick stage whispers. 

“And I love you, chum.” Bruce says, turning to face Dick directly. 

“As you should.” Dick replies, cheeky grin on his face. His focus returns to the movie as he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

They all sit there and watch as Stitch crash lands on Earth and Lilo wishes for a friend and Nani desperately tries to make sure her sister is happy and cared for.

Tim begins to squirm in Bruce’s hold a bit, breaking them from their concentrated viewing. Jason glances over at him. Tim’s blinks are getting longer and slower, his body loosening, one hand twisted in the fabric of Bruce’s shirt. 

“Is he asleep?” Dick  asks, voice soft. 

“Almost.” Bruce answers him, his eyes are fixed steadily on Tim. 

Dick reaches for the remote once again, turning the volume on the film down, and places the popcorn back on the coffee table. Then he curls up right next to Bruce and plants a kiss onto the top of Tim’s head. 

“Mmm.” Tim blinks, trying to reorient himself a bit, but he’s not really succeeding. 

“Shhh.” Bruce soothes, arm tightening its hold on Tim.  “Get some sleep, baby.”

“Not. Baby.” Tim’s words are slightly  slurred,  and his eyes haven’t opened again. He also has an adorable  little  pout on his face . Goddamn Dick’s influence. He can’t unsee how cute their little brother is anymore. 

Bruce leans in close to Tim’s face. He’s smiling but it’s small and a little sad. “You’re  _ my _ baby.” Bruce tells him. 

Tim doesn’t respond, he just smushes his face further into Bruce’s chest , breaths evening out into the cadence of sleep. 

Dick sighs. “I wish he was always your baby.” He looks so sad. 

“Do we have to send him back?” Jason questions, mostly to himself . 

It hurts knowing that there’s nothing they can really do. At least for right now. And Tim still seems to really love his dad and wants to try and spend time with him. And Jason can’t take that away from him. Won’t. Jason knows how that feels. His mother might not have been the best parent of all the time, but he still loves her with all of his heart. And even when there were less sober days than not, he wouldn’t have given time with her up for the world. It had been a lot to put on such a young child, but he’d do it all again if he had to. 

Bruce sighs, a weariness creasing his features. “I’ve made so many mistakes with him.” He admits. 

All parents make mistakes, that’s just part of being human, but Tim’s biological parents have hurt him in ways that will last the rest of his life. Jason’s had firsthand experience with shitty parenting, he knows how damaging it can be. Tim deserves to have people in his corner, who will always be in his corner. Jason’s heard, mostly from Dick, about how Tim’s parents would just leave him on his own for months. Months! He’d asked Alfred a couple questions about it as well and learned that they’d stopped hiring a full-time nanny for Tim when he was  _ six _ .  It broke Jason’s heart. Jason’s very familiar with loneliness, but it’s also not the only thing he’s ever known. 

“You’ve made mistakes with all of us,” Dick tells him, “but that doesn’t mean any of us are worse off because of them. You saved us, Bruce. All of us. From one thing or another. He’s your son now. Our little brother. And if I have to go against Jack Drake, I will.” Jason couldn’t agree more. 

“I’ve tried to keep my distance. He had a  father, and I was grieving...” Bruce closes his eyes tightly, a pained expression on his face.

Jason sits up, pushing back from Bruce just a bit. “You’re allowed to love him, Bruce.”

And with that, tears start to leak past Bruce’s closed eyelids. He pulls his arm away from Jason so he can fully embrace Tim, drawing him even closer, burying his face in Tim’s hair. 

The only sounds in the room are Bruce’s muffled cries, Tim’s soft snores, and the movie playing softly besides them. 

After another minute or so, Bruce raises his head, wiping his face with one of his hands, his other arm still carefully cradling Tim. 

This is not exactly what any of them had planned for a movie night, but Jason believes that it needed to happen. They needed to have this conversation. They needed to let these thoughts be aired to the world. 

“Thank you.” Bruce faces Dick. “Both of you.” He turns towards Jason. 

“Anytime, B.” Dick returns to his  snuggled-up position, eyes going back to the film on the screen. 

“I think we all needed that.” Jason admits.

Bruce looks intently at him, then gives him a nod. His free arm comes back up to wrap around Jason again. 

For the rest of the movie no one utters a word, they simple relax and enjoy the company around them. Dick gets a little weepy at the scene where Nani and Lilo are sitting in the hammock. When the scene where Stich says lost while looking at the story of the ugly duckling Jason’s breath hitches, a familiar ache blooming in his chest. It hits close to home. He’d been lost for so long, not feeling like he fits anywhere, hoping for something to make sense. But just like Stitch, he’d found his little and broken family. And they’d found him.

Before Jason knows it, the ending credits are scrolling past. Dick reaches out for the remote for a final time, switching the television off. The room is bathed in darkness. As if summoned, Alfred steps through the door, the light from the hallway illuminating the space ever so slightly. 

“I think you should be getting that little one to bed, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s eyes are soft, his lips turned up at the corners. He steps fully into the room and heads for the still mostly full bowls of popcorn and mostly empty mugs. 

Bruce retracts his arm from around Jason so he can support Tim as he stands up. Tim snuffles and blinks his eyes  partially open. 

“Is movie over?” The words are smushed together and it takes a second for Jason to decipher them. 

“Yeah, it’s over.” Bruce’s voice is soft, more of a gentle rumble. 

“Missed it.” Tim says sadly, his lip trembles ever so slightly. 

Bruce frowns. “We can watch it again when you’re less tired.” 

“O—” Tim yawns widely, “—kay.” His eyes drift closed once more, and he slumps in Bruce’s hold, out like a light once again. 

All of them wander out of the media room, heading for the stairs. Tiredness slowly washes over Jason as he follows behind the rest of his family. Alfred is the first one up and he opens the door to Tim's room for Bruce to enter through without having to maneuver Tim between his arms. Both Jason and Dick stay standing in the hall, watching as Bruce places Tim down on his bed gently. He tucks the covers up around Tim’s shoulders, so only his head is showing. Bruce brushes his fingers through Tim’s hair, brushing the stray strands away from his face. It’s all so soft. To his right, Dick tries and fails to cover his jaw-cracking yawn. Which in turn causes Jason to yawn. Fucker. 

Alfred and Bruce exit Tim’s room, Alfred closing the door quietly behind himself. 

“I believe sleep should be in  _ all _ your futures.” Alfred sends  both of them a pointed look, a gray eyebrow raised. The tone brokers no  argument .

Dick yawns again. “I’m really not that tired. I feel like I could do a hundred cartwh—”

“To bed.” Bruce cuts Dick off and starts guiding him towards his room.

Dick sticks his tongue out at Bruce but allows the nudging. 

They’re both standing in the doorway, when Bruce cups Dick’s cheeks and kisses his forehead. “Night, chum.” 

Dick smiles sleepily up at him. “Night, dad.” And he’s gone from sight, the door clicking shut behind him. 

“I see you have this well in hand, Master Bruce. I shall see you both in the morning.” Alfred says, pivoting and heading back towards the stairs so he can go to his own room. Before he leaves the hallway entirely, he turns back and addresses Bruce, “I do expect you to get some sleep tonight, sir.” 

Bruce grunts in response.

Then it’s just the two of them, standing in a hallway. Bruce is staring at him. 

“What?” Jason asks, feeling a little antsy with all that attention on him. 

“I’m just happy.” Bruce explains simply. 

Jason rocks on his feet not  really sure what to do with that. Or what he should be doing now. This is still uncharted territory for them. It used to be so easy back in the day. Now he has no idea what to do. Should he say nothing and just go to bed? Should he say goodnight and then head into his room? Should he hug Bruce like he used to? What should he  _ do _ ?

Bruce clears his throat. “Are you settling  in okay?” 

Not what he was expecting. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

“Good. Good.” Bruce says, head bobbing.

They used to not be so bad at this. But there’s room to grow, to figure things out again. 

“Well, I guess I should--” Jason trails off, gesturing with his head towards his room, hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie. 

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Bruce’s words come out a little stilted, awkward. 

Jason purses his lips slightly, then turns to head towards his room, which is right across from Tim’s. He reaches his door, ready to turn the knob when he’s stopped. 

“Jason, wait.” In a couple quick strides Bruce is beside him. He faces Bruce, brows raised questioningly. “I just wanted to say that I—I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you. More than you’ll ever know.” 

Jason doesn’t have to give it much thought, he just hugs his dad. Bruce’s arms circle him as well. The embrace is warm and comforting. It feels like home.

“I’m tired of being angry at you.” Jason’s tone is subdued. Sometimes it’s easier to admit things to Bruce when they aren’t facing each other full on.

There’s still this undercurrent of rage that bubbles just under the surface of his skin. He can feel it. Sometimes he looks at Bruce and all he can think about is how much he wants to twist and burn and hurt, because then it might ease this all-consuming fire that’s been slowly eating away at him since he clawed his way out of the Pit. It’s ugly and horrible and it makes Jason sick to think about. And now included in his list of nightmares is him hunting Tim, cornering him, breaking his bones, making him scream... No. Don’t  _ think _ about it.

“But sometimes I look at you and I just feel—”

“I know.” It’s so simple a response. But it also doesn’t tell Jason much. Shouldn’t Bruce have more of a reaction? Maybe Jason’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He doesn’t want to wait though. He’s terrified of what that would do to him. 

“Are you mad at me?” He finally asks. 

Jason is dreading the answer. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear it. But he also doesn’t want to wallow in  all of this uncertainty. 

“No.” Bruce answers. 

“Why not?” 

“You’re home, Jason. That’s more than I thought I’d ever get.” Bruce sounds choked up, like it’s taking every ounce of his will to get the words out. “I thought I’d lost you forever. And I would have given anything to see you smile one more time. And now I get to see it again. And I get to hear your laugh. And sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming and when I wake  up, you’ll be gone again.” 

After a beat of silence, Jason says, “I’m real.” 

He’s real and alive and breathing and smiling and laughing and he hasn’t been this full of life in so fucking long. 

“It’s still hard for me to believe, but I know my dreams could never compare to having you here, in my arms.” 

“You’re getting sappy in your old age.” Jason teases. 

Bruce chuckles low and deep. Jason feels the reverberations against his own chest. 

They continue to just breathe together, arms wrapped tightly around one another. Then Jason yawns, struggling to keep his drooping eyelids open. 

Bruce releases him from his hold. His hand goes to Jason’s cheeks, a thumb gently stroking the skin under his eye. Without having to look Bruce twists the knob to the door of his bedroom. It swings open and they both step through the doorway. Jason stumbles over to his bed and flops unceremoniously on top of it. His eyes drift closed as soon as his head hits the pillow. The covers are drawn over him. The bed shifts as Bruce sits at the edge of it. 

A hand rests against the back of his head and lips press gently, almost reverently, against his cheek. Warmth steadily spreads through him from that point of contact. 

Jason will have tonight and so many more like it to look forward to. Something he barely could have dreamed of before. And now his unexpected future is less dauting than it used to be. And with every new day will  come many new beginnings. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of this journey. Wow! What a ride this has been! I've loved (almost) every minute of it haha I hope you enjoyed this fun little tale I've cooked up!
> 
> I am thinking about possibly doing a continuation/sequel (from Jason's POV again or even another character's) or writing events from this fic from other characters' POVs. I'm not exactly sure yet. If you'd be interested in something like that let me know! 
> 
> I hope you have a wonderful day/night and I'll hopefully see you again soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Much love!


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